Running the Gauntlet
by Ice Cube1
Summary: Tony’s mask was so firmly in place that it took someone truly dedicated to see the real man behind it and who he had evolved from. WILL DEAL WITH CHILDHOOD ABUSE IN DETAIL.
1. The Catalyst

**Title: Running the Gauntlet**

**Author: Ice Cube**

**Rating: T – rather dark even for me, deals with child abuse, will eventually be fairly graphically. I will make warnings at the beginning of chapters that deal more vividly with the subject**

**Spoilers: Random quotes throughout the series are fair game, but not based off any specific episode – set early to mid season 1 but quotes come from the entire series to date**

**Disclaimer: Right, if I owned them anywhere outside of my dreams, the characters that are forthwith mentioned in this story would be making me a lot of money and very happy…so no, they aren't mine, and I'm a broke college student who has no money, so if you're going to sue, feel free, you won't get anything. Lyrics are the property of whoever deserves credit for them; I use them only to enhance the storyline.**

**Characters: Tony, Gibbs**

**Archives: Feel free; just let me know where so I can find it again.**

**Summary: Tony's mask was so firmly in place that it took someone truly dedicated to see the real man behind it and who he had evolved from.**

**Warnings: To those who think that I am capable of writing a fic that is torture free…I can't, and thus, if you don't want to see h/c, various possible tortures, and other forms of angst, find another story. **

**I don't have my stories beta'd, I'm too impatient to wait for someone to proof it after I've written it, so I apologize for any mistakes, and if you email me to tell me that they're there, I'll fix them later. Reviews are always a plus, it's great to know that people are reading my stories and like them, but as I'm a horrible reviewer, I won't hold my breath for them. Flames, however, will be treated with the utmost respect they deserve…they will be ignored completely or poked fun at with friends.**

**That said, on with the tale…**

**~**

* * *

First chapter's fairly PG, nothing really warranting a warning except for maybe a tissue warning for some of you. No abuse or anything like that yet.

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**Chapter 1 – The Catalyst**

_GIBBS: The Seaman was local. Address is in the file. You don't have to do the dirty deed. CACO already notified next of kin.  
_…………………  
_TONY: I hate this. I really do._

_KATE: Going to be that tough?_

_TONY: You have no idea._

_KATE: No, I don't. Tony?_

_TONY: Yeah._

_KATE: Take a breath.  
_~ 1x04 – The Immortals

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The smell of sawdust permeated the air and was a familiar comfort to the man sitting at the top of the stairs. Already two beers in to his evening, he had no specific reason as to why he was sitting here, why he had stopped at the top of the stairs and simply collapsed down to sit hunched over and merely watch. Tony knew better than to think Gibbs wasn't aware of his presence as he worked on the boat unhindered by the younger man's appearance, but had never been more grateful that he hadn't been acknowledged. Sometimes he needed that, despite how very often he portrayed just the opposite. It was a dichotomy that Tony didn't always pretend to understand, but was very much a part of him. For now he was content to let the sounds of the even strokes of the hand sander wash over him and try to erase the emotions of the day. He thought he'd done fairly well. Kate hadn't seemed to notice anything was wrong and McGee had been too busy tripping over himself to avoid Gibbs' wrath on his latest TAD assignment to even see that the mask was there. Gibbs may have been a different story, but he kept his own counsel and left Tony floundering more often than not.

It was hardly the first time that Gibbs had been graced with his silent visitor. The times were fairly few and far between, but most of the time he could predict when Tony would be making his way to the house. Today had not been one of those days. The case was solved; Tony hadn't been beaten, drugged, kidnapped, or misplaced as he was wont to do; and there had been no abused children or broken families that seemed to penetrate the walls of the Agent's cool exterior.

It hadn't taken long after meeting DiNozzo in Baltimore to see that the kid had more masks than a traveling theater, and it only took their first major case together at NCIS for Gibbs to be able to see through most of them. It grated on him the way his new "profiler" couldn't seem to get past the frat boy persona to see anything deeper. No matter. Short of whacking her upside the head and spelling it out, he wasn't sure she'd ever get it.

He continued to work the hand sander over the smooth grain as his agent popped the cap off his third beer. Tony's ventures to Gibbs' basement ran the gauntlet of reactions. Occasionally he'd bring pizza and talk the older man's ear off about everything and nothing before getting to the reason he'd sought out his mentor. Most times he'd come down the stairs and attempt to help as best as he was able – Gibbs usually took these opportunities to teach the younger man how to work with his hands – and would eventually sit under or next to the work in progress and spill what was eating at him. It was rare that his second would sit at the top of the steps in self-imposed silent solitude, as he was doing now, wordlessly observing and losing himself in the sights and sounds. These were the hardest nights, when only the tongue-loosening effect of the alcohol could help Gibbs to coax open the shell. He always felt horribly like he was doing something wrong when he finally got Tony to talk on these nights, felt like he shouldn't be privy to some of the things that were revealed.

They never spoke of the worst of these nights in the light of day. Rarely allowed any of the basement conversations to even leave the door at the top of the steps. Gibbs wasn't entirely sure how much of these nights Tony actually remembered but he had seen him drink fellow agents under the table on more than one occasion. He wondered if the 'amnesia' was yet another of Tony's masks – one he would gladly indulge him in if it kept him coming for help.

Tony wasn't sure how long he actually sat there, sipping at his beer and simply listening. He wasn't sure how long it took him to finish the drink in his hands. He sure as Hell wasn't sure when Gibbs had abandoned the boat to sit beside him, sipping the bourbon Tony had brought for him out of the mug he had scrounged from under his boat. He did, however, notice the familiar cologne of coffee and sawdust as it settled next to him, felt the warmth of Gibbs' shoulder as he crammed himself into the space between his agent and the wall.

"It really sucks telling the families. Doesn't it, Boss?" The whisper was so quiet Gibbs had to take a moment to be sure he really heard it. His brow furrowed.

"I mean, you have to act all professional and casual and cold and all that, and you know that they're going to hate you for it. You know that they know the minute you get out of the car. You know that you're going to change their lives forever, maybe do irreparable harm. Tear families apart, change relationships, upset the delicate balance. But you still do it, cuz it's your job, right?"

Gibbs nodded and forced his eyes to search for answers in his coffee mug and not in the pain he heard that would be bared plainly in his friend's eyes. He knew Tony wasn't done yet.

"They do, you know. The families. Hate the officers for it. Well, I mean, I'm sure you _know_. But you shouldn't hate someone for just doing the job. You shouldn't hate someone just because they are who they are. You shouldn't hate someone because they remind you of someone who's not there anymore. Because maybe they miss them too, you know?"

Gibbs caught the segue the moment they were no longer talking about the guys from CACO, but the path confused him. Why would DiNozzo be talking about himself in reference to the Casualty officers who had informed their victim's family of his death? Gibbs purposely tried to spare all of his agents that task whenever he could help it.

"I didn't understand it. Not at first. My mother dressed me up in sailor suits when I was a little kid and I used to parade around all of their parties like I was a little Officer. No DiNozzo would ever be enlisted, sorry Boss, but the DiNozzo clan came from money and no son of theirs was going to do anything until they graduated college. That's what they thought when I was really little. Apparently thinking doesn't get you everywhere. Not everyone follows the path that is set out for them. I used to love the attention at those parties. 'There's the youngest DiNozzo boy, doesn't he look dashing?' 'He's a spitting image, not hard to see that he's going to go the same route.' It was the only time they noticed me, and even then it was only because of someone else."

"I didn't know you wanted to be a military man." The voice was soft, not meant to interrupt, but meant to stave off the faltering as Tony's voice trailed off.

"It's been a long time since I thought I wanted that. You know where I went to Prep school."

"Yeah, but Rhode Island's a far cry from where you are now."

"Maybe, but it's not important. Not anymore. Too many stories, not enough time, ya know?"

Gibbs simply cocked his head to the side and let Tony take the lead again, waiting in the silence that allowed him to work up the courage once more.

But when the silence continued and Gibbs felt more than heard the man next to him trying to control his breathing he took the time to reflect on the diatribe so far. He had seen photos of Tony's father once or twice, and he couldn't believe that anyone would ever assume that the youngest DiNozzo was a spitting image of the millionaire. Had Tony really looked that different as a boy?

"Your father was never military." The statement came out as more of a question when he sensed the need to coax out more of the story, ignoring the tingling feelings of guilt that began.

Tony snorted. "No, he lucked out in the draft. He never wanted anything to do with the Armed Forces. Couldn't be bothered to help anyone if it wasn't going to be directly responsible for helping himself. I've told you that before."

"Then who did they think you were the spitting image of?"

There was no answer forthcoming and Gibbs wracked his brain for anything and anyone as DiNozzo gulped down some more of his beer.

"Maybe that's why I do what I do – with Kate, with McGee. Even with you. I don't know, maybe I miss the attention?"

Gibbs knew it was rhetorical and meant more to get him back on track than to divulge any big secrets. The two of them had discussed the need to be noticed before.

"When he was around – when I was real little – it didn't matter much. My mother loved the attention just as much and played it up when she could, but it didn't matter then. I don't think I even noticed it until it stopped."

"When who was around, DiNozzo?" Again, the words were as soft as he could manage to eventually steer the conversation in that direction. He gently eased the empty bottle from Tony's hands and after a brief mental war, pressed the half-full coffee cup into his hands instead.

The wry smile was a ghost of the sincere one that accompanied DiNozzo on other ventures to the basement, but it let Gibbs know that his ploy hadn't gone unnoticed. The coffee cup remained though, and after a tentative swallow of the bourbon, Tony continued.

"We were happy once upon a time. I can remember my father teaching me how to ride my bike, reading to me from _the Prince and the Pauper_," he paused. "I'm pretty sure he always hated that book, but he read it to me anyway. But that all stopped. He tried, I mean he really did. But my father always loved her more. Always put her first and never saw me as more of a means to an end, maybe a last resort."

Gibbs had learned the art of patience with DiNozzo's stories, but he usually had at least an inkling of where they were headed. His dark past, being disowned; these things he knew and had long ago learned to temper the anger that wouldn't help here. But either Tony was far more out of it than Gibbs thought or he was losing his touch.

"Why did it stop, Tony?"

The use of his first name reassured DiNozzo more than anything else could in that moment. A reminder that he was an individual, not just part of a wealthy name.

"It stopped when he was gone."

"Who, Tony? When who was gone?"

DiNozzo looked up then and Gibbs wasn't shocked to see the pain or the tears checked carefully in the corners of his eyes. They wouldn't fall, not for a while yet. But they were there just the same.

"She used to call us her little angels. Vinnie and Tony. It didn't matter that he was a decade older than me, that I was a mistake on a night of passion that ruined the image of parents and their only child and fortunate heir. Not back then. Not until he was gone."

Once again, the older man started as just how little he knew of this family background. "All your records indicate that you _were_ the only child in that image."

DiNozzo shook his head. "They would. Best way to move past something is simply to erase it. But dig a little deeper, Boss, and you'll find that's not the case. Not that it's easy, mind you. My father had some damned good lawyers. Still does."

"You had a brother?"

"Yeah." The way it came out sounded like it had cost DiNozzo something fierce to admit to it.

It didn't take long to put the pieces of Tony's ramblings together – to connect the beginning to the revelation. But by the time he did, the younger agent was already lost in his memories.

~*~

"Come on, Tony. Catch up to me! You don't want to be the last one down again, do you?" The four-year old's stubby legs were still working agility and speed into one concept, and his gait still bore hints of the traits of a toddler in his steps.

"Coming!" Tony's tongue graced the side of his lips as he stuck it out in concentration to increase his speed. He was concentrating on his brother who had turned and was jogging backwards, waiting for the boy to catch up. He didn't see the rock sticking out of the grass until he was face first on the ground, spitting out grass and soaking his face with tears even as he tried to stumble back to his feet.

Tony heard the soft laughter out of his teenaged brother as Vinnie returned to him and scooped him up. The tears eased as he rested his blond curls against his brother's neck and surveyed the damage. Eyes grew wide at the red substance on his hands and he shoved them out into Vinnie's line of sight as his lower lip trembled. He could feel the stinging pain on his knees and palms now and began to hiccup as he gauged his brother's reaction to the blood.

"Ah, Squirt. Let's get you home and cleaned up, okay? It's not too bad, don't worry. We'll get Marie to clean you up good as new, how's that?"

Tony could only giggle as tickling fingers ghosted over his sensitive stomach and he was shifted to a comfortable position on Vinnie's hip.

"What about going to the creek?"

"Ah, the creek will still be here next summer, Squirt. Come on."

~*~

"But where are you going? Father said that you had to go to college first, and this sure doesn't sound like college to me." Now seven, Anthony DiNozzo was trying hard to understand how his brother was going to go against his father's wishes. No one the small child had met had ever tried that before.

"You're the brains of the family Half-pint, not me. You're the one with the tutors and the extraordinary ranking at school. He knows that I'd never make it in college. It wouldn't be worth his money." At three days shy of eighteen, the voice was hardened into accepting that whatever choice he made would never please his father. Failing out of college or actually making a difference somewhere didn't seem to be too much of a choice for him, and he jumped at the opportunity to enlist and get out from under his father's thumb. He had wanted to be in the Navy since before his brother was born.

"But you're going away?" The high-pitched voice cracked as Tony scurried under the proffered arm and burrowed into his brother's side. "I'm not going to see you anymore?"

"It's no different than college, Runt. I'll still come home on breaks and see you. I still have to take you camping next summer. It's not forever."

Tony looked petulant, a look he knew he could only get away with giving to his brother. "But what if I want to see you sooner than that?"

"It's not perfect Tony. I know that. But even if I weren't doing this," he waved the pamphlets in the second-grader's face, "I still wouldn't be home all the time. _You_ know that."

Tony nodded and sniffled. "When do you go?"

"Well, I still have to finish the rest of the school year and graduate. Then I'll be heading out sometime in the summer. We can still go down to the house at the creek before then. Just you and me, how's that?"

"Really? Just us?" The grin that lit Tony's face made his eyes twinkle and accentuated the round cheeks that were probably his various Aunts' favorite characteristics for him.

"Just us. I promise. We'll take the Mustang out with the top down pick up chicks all the way there."

"Eww, Vinnie! Girls are gross."

~*~

"Good morning my little angels. It's time to get up now." The bright and cheery voice of their mother caused identical groans as Tony rolled his head under his pillow and Vinnie rolled onto his stomach and pulled the covers over his ears.

"It's early, Mother. Why?"

"Because, my friends are coming over this afternoon, so you two need to be presentable and have clean rooms and completed homework assignments before they get here. Now, let's get up and get dressed, boys. Let's go."

Vinnie rolled back onto his back and groaned as he threw an arm over his eyes. "It's just not normal. No one should be that happy in the morning."

Tony giggled at his brother's complaints and launched himself down off the bunk bed and onto his brother's mattress.

"And you shouldn't be this hyper in the mornings, either. Don't you want to go back to sleep?"

"Nope, I'm up now. Come on, Vinnie. Get up. Come on! If we hurry, we can catch the cartoons."

"You watch 'em. Tell me what happens." He tried to roll over but found the seven-year old sitting on his legs.

"Vinnie…" he dragged out the name as long as possible.

"Okay, okay. I'm up. I'm up. Get dressed, Half-pint. I'm gonna hit the shower."

~*~

Tony's eighth birthday had come and gone with all the regality due an upper-class resident of Long Island. His school friends had been there and his brother had even made it home for a couple hours, down from Groton on a days' leave as a surprise. The boy was still breaking in his new bicycle from his father when the car pulled up. It was a dark sedan, and two men stepped out in uniforms that looked similar to Vinnie's. Forgetting all rules and reminders, Tony ran up to the two men and started peppering them with questions.

"Do you know my brother? He's in the Navy. He's supposed to be coming home next month to take me camping. Do you work on the submarines with him? I want to be a pilot when I grow up. Father says that I have to go to college first 'cuz I'm too smart not to, but I want to be in the Navy just like Vinnie. Do you know what his job is on the submarine? Because he told me, but I forget. I know he listens to things and tells his superiors what's in the water. What are you doing here?"

The eight-year old would never forget the look that both officers graced him with as they finally made it to the front door. It was a look that would take him years to understand – sympathy mixed with regret. All he knew at the time was the men looked at him long enough to quiet him without so much as a word.

Marie opened the door and ushered the officers into the sunroom before shooing him out the door. She asked if the men would like anything in a quiet voice, much quieter than Tony was used to hearing. He hid behind the door as she exited in search of his mother. Something was wrong, he knew that much. His father was away on business, so he had to be the man of the house, but Marie had sent him off, and a good sailor didn't disobey orders. Tony settled for hiding behind the door.

"Ma'am, we are sorry to inform you that yesterday on a training operation, Seaman Recruit Vincent DiNozzo was killed…"

Tony didn't hear the rest as his brother's name and the word 'killed' echoed in his head. He wasn't listening to the explanation of the incident or what was to come next. He didn't care that his mother hated scenes and expected him to behave in such a manner that reflected on his upbringing – whatever that meant. He knew that his brother expected him to protect his mother, and his father wanted him to be the man of the house while he was away. Red-faced and sputtering, little Anthony DiNozzo raced into the room and started yelling while kicking the shins of the nearest officer.

He yelled until he was hoarse and until Marie had scooped him up into her arms and let him bury his face in her neck. He yelled until he saw his mother breaking down in her seat and wormed his way out of the maid's embrace to climb onto the couch. He was still yelling as the tears dripped down his face and he tried to climb into his mother's lap. He didn't stop yelling until she shoved him away, complete in his neatly pressed sailor suit. As he sat and stared in shock at the woman who was supposed to comfort him, he didn't, couldn't, realize that his whole life was going to change. He just knew his brother wasn't taking him camping next month.

~*~

Tony didn't know when the mug had been removed from his hands and the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He didn't know what he had said and what he had remembered silently. He knew that Gibbs was still sitting next to him, providing as much silent strength as he could by simply being there with his arm around Tony's shaking shoulders. The tears made his face hot and sticky, and his hands shook as he tried to bring his breathing back under control.

"I had never hated anyone in my entire life before that point. Not even Billy McKenna when he stole my backpack on my first day of kindergarten and told me I was rich enough to buy a new one. But I hated those men more than I've hated anyone or anything since. Even some of the guys we've put away. And I know I shouldn't."

Tony paused as if clamping down on the memories once more.

"Everything changed after that. I think the last time my mother was ever happy was that morning before they came."

Gibbs knew that words here would just trivialize the situation. Empathy was radiating from him and he knew, he _knew_ that Tony understood that he got it.

"It was twenty-four years ago today." The reason behind the visit finally came crashing down as circumstances had aligned just right to bring Tony to this point. Timing really sucked if you thought about it.

"Aw Hell, DiNozzo."

~~**~~

**Just for the record, this wasn't even supposed to be a story. I was starting a different story that's more case-based and got stuck because - well - I don't really do cases. And I started doing a character profile for Tony's past since he's a character I'd like to explore in future stories to try and get past the writer's block that had me stuck trying to figure out how to connect the DEA to NCIS. I started coming up with more and more scenes until 101 pages later I have a 10-chapter story for you. And the other story? Still not even close to getting it out of my head. So other than about half of chapter 8 being nothing more than notes, this story is complete and will be posted fairly regularly.**

**Fair warning, it's going to get much worse for little Anthony DiNozzo before we're through and will bring us from his 4-year old self at the beginning of this flashback to when he sets foot in RI for the first time. Plus lots of father/son interactions with Gibbs and DiNozzo.**

**Please let me know what you think. I'd especially like to know what you see from the show in what I write and vice versa - I found myself rereading this to proof it and having to attack my DVD's to remember where I'd seen a certain part in the show so I'd like to see if anyone else saw it - more later in the story than in this chapter though.**


	2. Removing Rose Colored Glasses

_**WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. This will start in this chapter and continue through the end of the story. There is enough buildup to warn you when the abuse is going to happen if you want to turn back…**_

**For those of you who don't turn back, I'd love to know what you thought. I wasn't sure how this story was going to be received, truth be told I'm still not sure how the rest of it will be, but the number of positive responses from the first chapter were definitely a good start. Thank you to everyone who I didn't get a chance to respond to personally.**

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**Chapter 2 – Removing Rose-Colored Glasses**

_KATE: You were a boy scout?_

_TONY: Cub._

_KATE: What'd they kick you out for?_

_TONY: Trying to score Brownie points.  
_~ 1x18 – UnSEALed

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"I think that was the turning point, you know? Something just snapped in her and nothing could ever be the same. She wasn't the same as my father – she didn't care that Vinnie had skipped out on college to enlist – she was the one that took him down to the recruiter's office the day he signed up. I think she blamed herself for that. But Vinnie never could have done anything wrong, not in her eyes, and…"

"And not in yours either?" Gibbs knew hero-worship when he saw it reflected in Tony's eyes.

He just shook his head. "Not before he died, no. I thought he could walk on water, make all bullies cower in fear, you name it. But I think I started to blame him after he died. If he had been a better son to our father, if he had only listened and gone to college. I thought about that a lot after my father disowned me. If Vinnie had gone to college, he would have just been graduating about that time, and I think it hit me really hard when I did the math. I still wanted to follow in his footsteps, and I blamed him for that too. It was easy; he wasn't there, so that must be the reason that everything was wrong. They never wanted me in the first place, so without Vinnie there, it was just…I reminded her of what was lost."

Gibbs refilled the mug with coffee from the thermos he had brought down with the blanket when Tony had lapsed into silence some time ago. He pressed the warm ceramic into his second's hands and glared at the pout. He wasn't about to spend the remainder of the evening in the ER with an alcohol-poisoned Tony.

"People tend to wonder what choice they would make if someone made them choose between the life of their child or their spouse."

The non sequitur clenched unexpectedly at the older man's heart as he wondered about what his own choice would be. Suicide being out of the question, he wasn't sure he could actually have made the choice between Shannon and Kelly and lived with himself afterwards. He was lost in his own thoughts and almost missed the line that wove Tony's previous statement back into the theme of the night.

"I never had to wonder with my father. He would have chosen her over me in a second; never would have needed to think or second-guess himself. With Vinnie it would have been harder, but I think he still would have chosen her. After all, he was stuck with us, but he decided to fall in love with her. And that made all the difference in the world."

The self-defeat in Tony's voice had Gibbs making silent vows of what he would do if he ever met the elder DiNozzo in a dark alleyway.

"You never know what someone will do until they're in that situation, Tony. Even if your father told you that, you can't…"

"He didn't just tell me, Gibbs. He showed me. Every damned day."

~*~

"I, Tony, promise to do my best. To do my duty to God and my country. To help other people and to obey the Law of the Pack."

The crisp blue uniform shirt and dark and light blue neckerchief accentuated Tony's youthful face as the eight-year old recited his Cub Scout oath. He looked around at the faces in the crowd, hoping that his father's promise to show up for his completion of the Bear Cub badge would not be broken. Ever since Vinnie had died, Tony had worked harder to complete the requirements and make his father proud. Vinnie would want that.

The Scout's Own ceremony wrapped up a little while later and Tony watched as his pack mates made their way home with their parents. He sat patiently with his hands on his lap as the den mother cleaned up the crafts they had been working on before the ceremony and smiled gently at the cookie that was waved in his direction. It wasn't the first weekly meeting that had ended with her making a phone call to the DiNozzo household in the past few months.

Tony took the offered sweet and held it in his fingertips as his arm fell back down to rest on his knee. He attempted a smile and a soft "thank you, ma'am" before letting his gaze drop back down to where his sneakers were scuffing at the ground under his chair. He wasn't sure why he was so upset. After all, his father was a busy man and something important must have come up at work. It wasn't like Tony's Cub Scout meeting was anywhere near as important as being the CEO of…whatever it was that his father really did. He was sure there was a good reason.

"It's not poisoned, Tony. I promise I don't cook kids in my oven." She watched Tony's soft smile at the _Hansel and Gretel _reference before he began nibbling at the edge of the sweet. His eyes sought out hers and the den mother hoped that she never saw that same look haunting her own son's eyes. Wishing that he hadn't been whisked off to practice immediately after the meeting, she pointed to the piano in the corner.

"Would you like to play a little? Show me what you've learned this week?"

Tony thought for a moment before nodding and settling himself onto the bench. He had to kneel on the seat and sit on his heels, but at eight years old such things held little importance. His fingers carefully ghosted over the keys as he plucked out the beginning notes to his favorite _Wizard of Oz_ piece and laughed quietly as he imagined Vinnie's voice cracking at "why then oh why can't I" – he cut off the high note abruptly.

Noting the changes that had come over the boy as he was playing and then when he stopped, his den mother had never been so happy to see one of the DiNozzo's staff clapping at the door.

"Come on, then, Tony. Let's get you home. We'll stop for ice cream on the way, how's that?" Marie laid an arm across the boy's slight shoulders as he hopped down from the bench and offered a quiet "thank you" for watching him.

"Why didn't Father come, Marie?" The soft question was asked as the door shut. It was the last time she saw Tony at one of the Scout meetings.

~*~

Tony stood at his father's desk and waited for the man to acknowledge his presence. He knew it was required of him to stand perfectly still and not draw attention to himself until the man in front of him allowed it, but Tony was still only eight. His attention tended to wander quickly and the restless energy that would follow him into his adult life had been clearly present for some time. Vinnie had once complained that Tony wasn't still even when he was sleeping. He had been waiting for at least ten minutes according to the big grandfather clock behind his father, and he began quietly bouncing up onto his toes unconsciously. He licked his lips and fiddled with his hands, wondering if his father had heard the man at the door announce his presence. When he sniffled twice to try and gauge a reaction, he got more of one than he hoped for.

His father slammed the file down onto the desk and threw himself to his feet. "For God's sake, Anthony. Can't you be quieter? Your brother would have done better."

Tony bowed his head and scuffled his feet at the mention of his big brother. "Sorry, sir."

"Damn right you're sorry. Pour me my drink."

"Yes, sir." Tony pulled out the bottle and ice and only returned to his father's side when he thought he had it right.

"Well?"

"My Cub Scout meeting was today and…"

"About school. What are they teaching you at school?"

"Oh." Tony prattled on about his classes and how it was show and tell tomorrow. How it was _his _turn to bring in something special to him and how he thought that maybe he would be able to bring in the medal they had awarded to his brother. At his father's dismissing wave, Tony knew he as good as had permission. He turned to leave but couldn't help asking.

"Why didn't you come today? You promised."

"Come to what?"

"My Cub Scout meeting. I'm a Bear Cub now. I finished all my requirements and I got my new bandana and my badge and everything. But you didn't come."

"Your mother and I went to a movie this afternoon. Some silly piece of fabric and a patch doesn't make you anything in the world, Anthony. It's time you stopped with that."

"Stopped, sir?"

"You won't be going to those silly meetings anymore. You will have a tutor every day after school to improve your grades and won't have time for pointless craft projects."

Tony looked up at his father. "But I like the Cub Scouts. All my friends are there and…" he stopped abruptly as the back of his father's hand connected with his cheek. His mouth dropped open with a cry and he clutched the eye as he screwed them both shut to avoid the tears. His father had never hit him before and he didn't know what to think.

"Those _friends,_" the word was said with as much distain as Tony had ever heard, "of yours are no good and worthless, like you. I will not permit anyone with my last name to associate with people of that class. Do I make myself clear?"

Still clutching at his throbbing cheekbone, Tony could do little more than nod as he tried to settle himself down.

"I didn't hear you, Anthony."

"Yes, sir." The whisper was loud enough to placate the man still sitting comfortably next to him in the office chair, and he dismissed the boy without another thought.

~*~

"What happened, Tony?" Marie caught the sobbing child as he threw himself into her arms and buried his face in her neck. She could feel the hot sticky skin of his cheeks pressed against hers and held him tightly to her chest to ride out the tears. It wasn't the first time he had come to her, and she speculated that he had been thinking of his brother again.

"I was bad." The mumbled response was lost into the collar of her shirt and she had to pry the boy away from her to hear more clearly.

Her gasp frightened Tony as she took in the sight of his already puffy eye. "I was bad, but I don't know how."

Marie simply picked Tony up and brought him down to the kitchen for some ice. "Who did this to you, Tony?"

"I didn't think I did anything wrong. I reported like I'm supposed to, I poured his drink like he told me to. I didn't break anything or yell or rip my pants or anything."

Marie had kept her own counsel at how the boy was treated before this, but connecting the rapidly forming bruise to Tony's daily meeting with his father nearly pushed her over the edge. If it weren't for fear of losing the only income that supported her and her nineteen-year old daughter, she would have marched into the elder DiNozzo's study and given him a piece of her mind. Grief may be an acceptable excuse for some things, but not for this.

~*~

Tony took in the red eyes of his mother and the slight tremble of her hands and almost didn't recognize the woman in front of him. Never an overly demonstrative woman with her youngest son, the matriarch of the DiNozzo clan now held a lace handkerchief to her nose as he bounded excitedly into the room. The mark under his eye did little to slow him down as he was sure it must have been an accident; his father would _never_ hit him.

"Hello, Mother. How are you this afternoon? Would you like me to play something for you? My teacher says that I'm doing better with my scales and she is going to teach me a new song next week. I can play the _Wizard of Oz_ music for you. Or I can play…"

"Oh for Heaven's sake, child. Go bother someone else, won't you? Leave me alone." The tone was harsh and nowhere near what he had once heard coming from her. If Tony were older, he may have picked up the telltale slur of her words.

"If you don't want me to play, maybe I could read you one of my books. I have a new _Hardy Boys_ mystery. Would you like…"

He was cut off once again. "What I'd like is not to have to look at you, you little wretch. Get out of my sight."

"Mother?"

"GO!" She threw the glass in her hand at him and was only mildly upset when the liquor splashed onto his pant legs as the glass shattered at his feet. Now she would have to pour herself a new drink.

Tony had jumped back as the tumbler came flying at him and stood transfixed as the glass pieces settled on the ground where he'd been standing seconds before. Thankfully, his mother's attention had been drawn away from him by the allure of more alcohol, but the shout and breaking glass had brought his father running.

Tony was shoved unceremoniously out of the way and to the ground as the couple embraced and Tony's father stroked the woman's hair.

"What's wrong, Dear?"

The shaky finger that pointed out at him frightened Tony more than he thought it would, and he was unsure of what to make of the new situation.

"What did _he_ do to you?"

Tony had never been afraid of his parents before and wondered why he should be so now. Instinct took over and he turned to withdraw to the safety of under his brother's bunk bed when his father's words stopped his retreat.

"Wait for me in my office, Anthony." The words were cold and dark.

~*~

The boy in question hadn't been back in that room since being struck two days previous, and wasn't looking forward to entering now. He stood outside the door as he screwed up the courage to turn the doorknob.

"What are you doing, Tony?" Marie had been vacuuming in the adjoining wing when she noticed the boy's reflection in the mirror. He seemed to be playing some kind of make-believe game that required him to fiddle with the door. Not wanting the boy to antagonize her employer, she tried to shoo him away to safer quarters for his already rampant imagination to further flourish.

"Father told me to wait for him in here. Mother spilled her drink when she dropped her glass and I think he thinks it's my fault." Tony absently fingered the still tender cheekbone.

Marie noticed the dark stains on Tony's clothing and the small shards of glass tucked into the rolled cuffs of his too-long play pants.

"I'm sure it will be fine, Tony. Come on, in you go." She turned the door handle for him and ushered him in. With a sigh of regret, she closed the door on the back of the boy standing rigid at attention like his brother had taught him. Surely the last incident had been a mistake, right?

As she turned to return to her vacuuming, Marie saw the head of household headed towards his office with his chief of security in tow.

"Is Anthony waiting for me in my office, Marie?" The maid was surprised at the tone, but responded with a quiet affirmative.

"Good. My wife had a bit of an accident in the piano room. See that it is taken care of immediately while we deal with Anthony. And make sure after we are done that he is dressed for the dinner party tonight however my wife wishes."

"Yes, sir."

~*~

Tony heard the hushed voices outside the door and set his shoulders back even more tightly. He knew that dinner parties meant he would be dressed as a sailor and then berated by his mother for looking so much like Vinnie had. He hoped that it was a larger occasion so he could get lost in the attentions of the crowd for the evening.

As Marie was dismissed, he heard the conversation turn to him. The sound of the guard's voice scared Tony as he had never liked the man. Just being near him made his stomach hurt like nothing else could.

"You discipline your own son, don't you?"

"I keep him in line with a firm hand, sir. Yes."

"Anthony needs to be taught a lesson and I feel as though you could do a much better job than I have. I have been too easy on him and Vincent in the past, and we saw how well that turned out. I could use your help learning how to better keep Anthony in line. I will not have him disappoint me any more than Vincent did."

"Yes, sir."

The door opened as Tony's father explained his own version of what had happened in the piano room. The boy couldn't suppress the shudder that raced through him; he didn't know what was coming next.

"Anthony, do you know why we are here?" The chief's voice was rough and hurt the boy's ears.

"No, sir." His mother and brother always told him to answer honestly. "Mother threw her glass and it broke."

The fact that the two men were still standing behind him made Tony sweat.

"You're blaming your mother for what you did?" Tony's father's voice was calm yet dangerous.

"I didn't throw the glass, sir."

The vice-grip that grasped his arm and turned him startled Tony and made him cry out. The icy eyes of the guard intensified the feeling in his stomach. Something was wrong and it wasn't going to turn out well for him.

"The first thing you need to be taught, boy, is accountability. It's not your mother's fault that you were being a nuisance. Now take off your shirt and climb up into that chair. Put your face into the back and your hands on your knees."

Tony shivered and looked at his father. He didn't understand what this was supposed to accomplish. His father's cold stare did nothing to alleviate his newfound fears.

"Do what the man says, Anthony. You're in enough trouble already."

"Yes, sir." The short-sleeved Oxford shirt was unbuttoned and slipped off shaking shoulders as he looked for a place to put it. His father took it and pointed to the chair.

Tony climbed up to kneel on the plush chair with his forehead resting on the back. He couldn't see what was happening, but heard the rush of leather against fabric. Curiosity got the better of him and he turned to look.

"Did I tell you to move, boy?"

"No, sir," the breathless whisper was accompanied by the turning of his head back to the required position, but he had seen the object in the guard's hand and was both fearful and confused.

"The boy is eight now, so I think eight to start will be a good lesson. Do you agree, sir?"

"Whatever you think will do the trick."

"Would you like me to administer all of them, or would you like to leave your own impression for this lesson?"

Something tugged at the man's conscience as he could still feel the skin of Tony's cheek against his knuckles. "I think I'll leave this lesson to you for now."

"Very good, sir."

The whistle of leather cutting through still air was the only warning Tony had before a sharp burning pain lanced across his back. Tony scrambled to get out of the chair as he yelped. Before he knew what he was trying to do, the frightened child was racing away from the overturned chair towards the door.

Tony had made it three steps before his father's crushing grip caught his upper arm and tossed him back to the ground by the arm of the chair. "You are not yet dismissed, boy."

Shocked eyes met his father's dull ones and his breath caught in his throat. Before he could work through his head that his father approved of this, before he could remind himself that he needed to breathe, he had been dragged back to his feet and made to climb back into the chair.

The next two blows brought tears and sobs wrenching from his lips as the boy struggled to keep still. But when the fourth stroke cut across already tender flesh, Tony couldn't help the screech.

"Daddy!"

His hair was grabbed roughly and his head jerked back as his father's face loomed over his own. "You don't get to call me that. I've told you that before. I never wanted you in the first place; neither did your mother. You were a mistake, you understand me? Vincent was supposed to…I was _his_ Daddy. Not yours. You only live under this roof because it would look worse if we got rid of you and now I need someone to take over when I retire. Never. Call me. Daddy."

He let go of Tony's hair. "Let me have the belt."

The boy would never be sure if the last four blows hurt worse because they were delivered by his father's own hand or because his back was already bruised.

Tony was finally allowed to stand up and was handed his shirt. "Put it on and then get out of my sight. I don't want to see you again until dinner. And don't let me hear you were bothering your mother again, understood Anthony?"

"Yes, sir." Tony lowered his eyes to the ground and walked slowly to the door. But once it had shut firmly behind him, the small child sprinted for the safety of his brother's bedroom.

~~**~~


	3. Beginning to Understand

_**WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Anything that happens in this chapter is on par with what happened in the last one in terms of description, nothing worse yet for Tony.**_

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* * *

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Chapter 3 – Beginning to Understand

_GIBBS: Your father teach you how to report?_

_TONY: Oh yeah. During cocktail hour while I was pouring his Macallan18 – three fingers, one ice cube. You know I had to report in about my day at school and just give him a sort of a...  
_~ 1x16 Bête Noire

* * *

Marie opened the door to Tony's room expecting to see him racing his Matchbox cars around the room, admiring his new _Star Wars_ action figures, or lining up his G.I. Joes in some semblance of a battle. She didn't expect to see the room as tidy as when she had finished cleaning it before moving off to vacuum, nor did she expect it to be seemingly devoid of one rambunctious eight-year old boy. She had almost closed the door to go off in a search for the wayward youth when she thought she heard the slightest of sniffles.

Stepping further into the room, she listened more closely before locating her query. Kneeling down and pulling up the bed skirt of Vinnie's old bottom bunk, Marie found Tony curled in a small ball with a raggedy old teddy bear clutched to his chest. It didn't escape the woman's notice that the bear was also Vinnie's.

"Tony, sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"I was punished for Mother's glass breaking." The statement was interrupted by several sniffles and punctuated with a quiet sob. "It must have been my fault that she threw it at me. I don't like being punished."

The connection between the location of the broken glass and where Marie had found Mrs. DiNozzo sipping another mint julep finally hit home. "Oh, Baby. Come on out from there. We'll get you cleaned up for the party and I'll even let you have some of the chocolate cake before dinner. Come on now."

Tony nodded and slid himself out from his dusty cave. Tear tracks were dried with the sleeve of her shirt. Tony's eyes never met her own and that worried Marie. The boy in front of her had never been shy before with anyone, least of all someone who'd acted partly as his nanny for years. Surely his father's angry rants couldn't have done this much damage.

"I'm going to draw your bath and set out your clothes, okay Tony?"

The question was met without protest and with a small nod. If that hadn't been enough to concern Marie, the fact that Tony seemed to jump out of his skin when she laid a hand on his shoulder to usher him to his toothbrush definitely was.

Marie used two fingers to lift Tony's chin so that he would look at her. It was all the prompting he needed to burst into tears again and throw himself into her arms. Tony had been scolded plenty of times before. He was, after all, far more excitable than his older brother ever had been. But something about this new reaction caused Marie to fear something more severe than a raised voice had been the boy's punishment.

Sitting back against the bed frame, Marie cradled her charge into her lap and stroked his hair until the sobs finally abated.

Taking a deep breath, Tony sniffled away the last of his tears and held his watch out to Marie. "Isn't it bath time now?"

Marie kissed his brow and carried him into the bathroom, depositing him on the sink and getting out the bubbles. She heard his teeth being brushed and smiled softly.

"All right, young man." Keeping her tone light and her attitude about bath time as normal as she could muster, Marie held an air of business about her. "I'm going to step out and get your suit while you hop in. I'll be back in a few minutes for your hair. Make sure you wash behind your ears."

"Yes, ma'am." The sloppy salute and toothy grin soothed her fears and she left him to his bath.

~*~

The soapy water on the tile floor was evidence of Tony's latest amphibious battle and brought an exasperated smile to Marie's face.

"I thought we agreed that the bath water was supposed to stay in the…" she trailed off as Tony jumped and offered the quickest apology she'd ever heard followed by a soft plea to not tell his father. Automatically she assured him that this was nothing to concern his father with and began to clean the mess. As she finally drew back the bath curtain minutes later, she caught the first look at the punishment that had upset Tony and reduced him to such fear.

The boy returned to absently crashing plastic boats together and paying no mind to the woman behind him. The bar of soap had long been lost to the depths of his 'ocean' after the obligatory scrubbing of his ears. But none of that registered with Marie. The lines of bruising and angry red welts made her want to be physically ill or rip her employer limb from limb.

"Tony, did your Daddy do that to you?" She couldn't imagine her late husband ever laying a hand on their daughter and it made her see red.

"I'm not s'posed to call him that."

"He said that?" The red that she saw grew darker.

"Yes, ma'am. He said that I didn't deserve to call him that – that I mustn't call him something so informal. Just Father or Sir."

"Did…did your _father_ do that, then?" Marie tried to calm her voice lest the boy clam up, thinking he'd done something else wrong.

"Not most of it. The scary guard that I don't like did most of it. Please don't tell Father that I was crying. Please, Marie?"

"I won't, Baby. I promise. Let me see that wash cloth." Marie soaked the cloth and gently washed the sweat from Tony's back, soothing him with the soft touch and gentle care. She had to wipe silent tears from her eyes before carefully soaping and rinsing Tony's short hair.

"Get dressed, Bud, and I'll find your shoes. Then we'll get you that cake," _and anything else you ever want, _she added the last thought silently.

~*~

"No, sir. The boy just doesn't seem to have an eye for it. Give him a science problem or something to memorize and he's a whiz. Those mystery books that he reads are well beyond his age level and he understands them well. He even has a tendency to figure out the end before the characters do. The boy's extremely intelligent for his age, but math just seems to bore him. He's a lot like his older brother was."

"That's exactly what I intend to drill out of his head. I will not have another one of those fiascos. I want to know how many math problems he gets wrong at the end of every session. I don't want him focusing on those mysteries; he gets enough English classes at school. I want him focused on math and math alone. He will be going into the family business and being able to solve a cheap child's mystery is not going to help him in my world."

"Understood, sir." The tutor sighed as he wondered just how much more difficult it was going to be to keep the youngest DiNozzo's attention without the promise of a new book at the end of each week.

~*~

In the last few months, Tony had come to hate the chair in his father's office more than anything else. He knew that being called to kneel in the soft cushions was tantamount to stuffing down pain and torment. He could never be sure exactly when his father's mood would sour enough to land him there, but he was pretty sure he hadn't done anything in the past few days to incur the man's wrath.

"Report, Anthony."

He had learned quickly that his father expected concise answers to his questions, and his daily recounting of school and his extra lessons was no different. Classes that interested Tony and kept his wandering attention on task were glossed over quickly despite his accomplishments, and more detail was given to what he was learning in math and history. Neither subject appealed to the boy, but he was intelligent enough to pick his battles. Discussing his science lessons was best left to talking with Marie as she tucked him in each night.

"And your tutor today; how did that go?" Tony groaned at the mention of the man. He had never minded the extra lessons before, always able to earn praise for his talents. But recently the lessons had taken the sole focus on math that had been requested, and Tony was rapidly losing interest.

"Fine, sir." He couldn't muster up a better answer than that without lying.

"No problems today?"

He thought about the session. He had gotten a few answers wrong, but if he wasn't having some difficulty then there would be no reason for him to have the lessons, would there?

"No, sir."

"Lying, worthless brat."

The change in tone startled the boy and he tried to think of what could have gone wrong. He hadn't spoken back; he hadn't tried to leave early.

"Sir?"

"Seven questions wrong? Out of thirty? That seems acceptable to you?"

Tony's head dropped to study the floor.

"Pour me another drink."

When Tony had obliged him, the elder DiNozzo pointed to the chair while he sipped at the beverage. Shirt removed and placed on his knees, Tony listened for his lesson.

"No one with my last name," the first blow fell and stole his breath. He hadn't been expecting his father to use the cane he sometimes carried for show.

"Will disgrace me by being miserable at business." A second jolt struck across his kidneys and pulled the first cry.

"Always knew you were weak, boy. But you'll learn." A third and fourth blow brought clenched fists and wrinkles in his school shirt.

"I do not accept a mere seventy-seven percent success rate." A fifth strike tensed shoulders and forced tears.

"You are worthless to me, boy. Keep this up and you will never amount to anything." The sixth silenced him as it bruised his shoulder blades.

"You will do better, won't you?" The seventh blow brought tremors of fear. Was he allowed to speak during his father's lessons?

"There. Seven for seven wrong. Put your shirt on, Anthony." Tony may be only eight years old but he had already begun to notice that his name was only used before and after lessons, never during.

"Yes, sir." Tony climbed down gingerly and buttoned his shirt over the bruises before turning to leave.

"Did I dismiss you?"

Tony froze; eyes wide. He hadn't even thought about the usual abrupt dismissal, expecting it to come immediately after his shirt slid over his shoulders to hide his disobedience. He slowly turned as he fumbled with the last button. What else could his father want?

"You look a mess, Anthony. Your shirt is a disgrace. That is unacceptable. Come over here."

Tony stood trembling in front of the man responsible for his existence. Tears traced down red cheeks and dripped off his chin onto the uniform shirt. He gasped as his father pulled him up to his tiptoes by the lapels and then ripped it open, scattering the buttons everywhere. Tony was spun around and the shirt was stripped from him.

"If you can't wear your clothing with respect, then you don't deserve it at all. Pick up those buttons and then you may walk slowly to your room. I won't have you running around this house like some hooligan."

Buttons were handed over and a curt dismissal was given. Tony pushed the door open as hard as he dared; he had liked that shirt.

The screech that accompanied the abrupt stop of the heavy door let Tony know that his day was only going to get worse.

"What happened?" Movement from behind the boy alerted him to his father's path to rescue his wife.

Tony was already backing rapidly away from his irate mother when his father's voice had him backpedaling towards the closest wall.

"The door. Him. Get him out of my sight. He's not Vincent. I want Vinnie. Make that one go away." His mother's heavily slurred words dripped with disdain.

Tony judged the distances between himself and the door, himself and his father, and his father and the door. He had no chance of escape and hoped that standing still would earn him some sort of reprieve. The bruising grip on his arm caused Tony to gulp and try his best to keep his feet under him as he was dragged from the room.

The trip led away from the bedroom wing he was hoping for and frightened the boy. Where was his father taking him? He wouldn't throw him out of the house would he? It had snowed that morning and Tony was hardly dressed for the weather.

As they passed the servant's entrance from the backyard to the kitchen, Tony let out a short breath of relief. His ease was brief; however, as the door to the basement was thrown open.

Terror gripped Tony as he stared down into the darkness. Vinnie had petrified him with stories of what was down there, and he had never come within ten feet of the door before, never mind been down the steps.

"No, Daddy. No!" Not even fear of more severe punishment could stop the cry.

"Worthless brat. I am _not_ your Daddy. Now shut your mouth and I'd better not hear another word from you until I come get you. Understood?"

"Yes, Father." Tony stood stock-still at the door trying to screw up the courage to step through the portal when the bruising grip increased and the boy found himself tripping over his feet as he was tossed callously down the stairs.

Sharp pain raced through his arm and into his chest as he hit bottom and he looked up just in time to see the last of the light obliterated by the closing door. The sound of the bolt sliding home sealed him in his fears. Caught up in the claustrophobic darkness, Tony pulled himself up and slowly backed away from the stairs until he found the concrete wall. Sinking slowly to sit with his injured arm cradled between his chest and thighs, the boy laid his other arm across his knees and dropped his forehead to rest on that. The cold concrete soothed the hurts on his bare back and hot tears dropped to his knees until he fell asleep.

~*~

"I still think he should be in a hospital, sir. His fever hasn't broken in two days and while I set the arm, we really should get x-rays to confirm proper placement." Tony recognized the voice of his family's doctor floating through the black haze that had engulfed him recently. Knowing that the doctor wouldn't be down in the monster's cave that he had been locked in, he fell back to sleep.

~*~

When he woke again, Tony was more aware of his surroundings. Soft white sheets and cream blankets covered him, and he could feel the smooth silk shirt that was part of his sleeping garb. Opening his eyes wider, he recognized that he was cocooned in the canopy bed that had been his before the nightmares had chased him to sleep in Vinnie's room two years ago.

"Ah, Master Anthony. It's good to see you back with us, child. You gave us all quite the scare." The doctor smiled gently as he reached for the thermometer still under Tony's tongue.

"Yes, Anthony, what were you doing hiding in the basement? Your father and I were frantic for three days looking for you."

Tony glanced first to his mother and then to his father. The man's face was clearly daring him to tell what had really happened. He would beat the damned honest streak out of his son one way or another. It wouldn't serve him in the future as the next CEO.

The boy thought for a moment before answering. "I was trying to see if I could be quiet as long as Father thought I could." The self-satisfied smirk that Tony had as he stared into his father's eyes was the first of many he would wear as he grew up. "I must have fallen asleep, and then I don't remember anything after that."

~*~

The plaster around his wrist itched and constantly got in the way of Tony's attempts to move his army men around the floor. Back in the room that was his sanctuary, the boy had been uncharacteristically quiet in the week following his rescue from the basement. He hadn't seen Marie once since he woke up, and was worried that something had happened while he was hidden away. His mother had been relatively sober in that time and had taken to checking in on him, pointing to the bathroom when he should bathe and coming to get him herself for dinner. It was the closest Tony knew to his mother's care in the past year.

"Thank God they found you."

Tony's head shot up at the soft voice, but a scowl crossed his features.

"Why didn't _you_ come for me?" He remembered most of the first two days of his imprisonment and remembered waiting for Marie to come pounding down the stairs to ease his tremors and fears.

"I looked for you, Tony. But when your father found out that I was concerned, he ordered me to stop and then had me driven to the airport to visit my daughter. I wanted to come find you, Baby. I did."

Tony looked at the woman's face and saw something that convinced him.

"I didn't know you were down there, Tony. I swear to God I would have come for you if I had. Your father told me you were taken care of and that your mother wanted some time with you. I didn't think he'd…he's the one that left you down there, isn't he?"

Marie was the first person who didn't believe that Tony had gotten himself locked in that basement, and the trust that he had placed in her was once again strengthened.

"Everyone else thought I must have managed to lock that bolt on the outside of the door from down the stairs." He looked up at the woman at the door and smiled softly.

"Locked yourself in, hmm? That would be a feat, now wouldn't it? I brought you a piece of pizza if you're hungry, Tony." The peace offering worked for what it was intended and the ease at which the small boy forgave amazed her.

~*~

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Tony was curled up on her lap a little while later with his ear resting over her heart. The steady beat did more to calm him than an entire week of the mother hen routine that his mother had been trying to emulate.

"I told them I don't remember being down there," the whisper was airy and nearly silent, "but I remember more than I want to."

"What do you remember, Tony?"

"Why do you call me Tony? No one else does."

Marie laughed gently at the evasion. It was neither subtle nor unexpected. "Because it's what I've always called you. And it's what your brother called you. Would you rather I called you Anthony?"

"No, ma'am. I don't like being called that. I want to be Tony, just Tony."

"You'll always be Tony to me, Baby. Always. Now rest."

~*~

He had told his parents, the doctor, and the psychologist that had attempted to ward off his insomnia that he didn't remember anything after the first time he'd fallen asleep in the cellar, but the first time he'd even let his eyes drift closed was when the fever had taken hold of him. It was the parts before he fell asleep that made his memories of that particular punishment haunt his sleep for months afterwards. The sounds had been amplified by the darkness, and as he got sick from the cold lowering his immune system and making him vulnerable to the microbes living in the damp, his fevered mind conjured up several of the images from Vinnie's stories.

Even now, though the adult in him laughed the occasional childhood nightmares back to where they belonged, Agent DiNozzo could still hear the growl the boiler had made, the footsteps the settling house had created, and the slithering that various kitchen carts had echoed down into that basement. His imagination had come up with some sort of cross between a bear and a dragon, and the beast still crept up on his sleep after harder days.

"How long have we been down here, Boss?"

Gibbs didn't answer right away, just refilled the coffee mug and smiled ruefully. "Why, you got a hot date, DiNozzo?"

"Well, you know, there are a couple girls I could call, depending on the time." The easy humor gave him a break from the memories. He honestly wasn't sure how much of what he remembered was relayed out loud to Gibbs, and what simply passed by in a flash, but it was enough to know that he had a safe place to fight through them. The loss of time down here was a result of his deep introspection.

The head slap was expected at the barb, and with no one else around, it wasn't granted the dramatics it would have required in the office to play down his pain threshold level. Anything to keep up with appearances.

"You kicking me out, Boss?" The tone was meant to be light, but Gibbs picked up on the guarded defense that it actually was. One day, the older man swore, DiNozzo would truly realize that he was welcome here at any time and for as long a time as he needed to squash his mottled upbringing back down behind the indomitable character that made him into a greater man than his father would ever be. It was an allowance that Gibbs didn't make for many people, but Tony was definitely in a league all his own with the older man. He filled a void that had been empty for far too long, and even Gibbs didn't understand how Tony had wormed his way in there.

"You're the one who asked the damned question, DiNozzo. Wouldn't be the first time we spent all night sitting here, and I'm sure it won't be the last."

Tony smiled and nodded as he swallowed more of the bitter coffee. "Why don't you mind?"

The question was so quiet that Gibbs wasn't sure he'd even heard it.

"You tell me." Too much touchy-feely would have DiNozzo doubting the authenticity or running for the hills – sometimes both. It was a mistake that Gibbs wasn't ready to make again. He'd worked too hard to get back to this level of trust with DiNozzo after the last time he'd tried to explain.

Tony just nodded, stared at the drink in his hands, and changed the subject. "You know, this is the first basement that hasn't scared the Hell out of me in years."

"Maybe it's because you already know the bear that lives down here."

DiNozzo's head came up so abruptly that it appeared to be spring-loaded. He looked into the older man's eyes, soft with humor, and then down at the unfinished boat and allowed a smile to cross his own features.

"Hey Boss, how are you going to get the boat out of here when you're finished?"

~~**~~

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	4. Enticing the Inevitable

_**WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Tony's father may have gotten a little bit drunk and sadistic in this chapter, so he's a bit more abusive than he has been in the past couple instances. And one or two curses, but I think that may be the least of our worries.**_

_**Also – one of the reviewers mentioned something about taking issue with my comment about honesty not serving Tony well as the next CEO of his father's company. Since the review was anonymous I couldn't respond personally but I just wanted to clarify that it was more of an insight into the character of Tony's father rather than a generalization. It's difficult to balance the flashbacks being Tony's memories with trying to paint enough of a picture of the others involved. As this is an adult remembering childhood experiences, hopefully you can realize that some of what is written is bleeding in from other instances – I'm sure Tony's father beat into him enough times that being honest was a sign of weakness – in his mind anyway.**_

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**Chapter 4 – Enticing the Inevitable**

_TONY: Do you know what little Anthony DiNozzo's job was during these reenactments, Ziva?_

_ZIVA: Little drummer boy?_

_TONY: No, I would carry around a bucket so these guys could take a dump in it. They called me their little poo-boy.  
_~ 3x04 – Silver War

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"It's not your fault, you know. What he did. It's on him, not you." Gibbs' voice was tentative and fear settled in his gut that Tony might take this the wrong way and bolt.

"Most of the time." The soft words were barely understandable and settled wrong with the older man. It was too vague, too accepting of the guilt that should be placed squarely on the elder DiNozzo's shoulders.

"Most of the time you know? Or…" Tony hadn't learned overnight how to seamlessly deflect Gibbs' wrath from his teammates back onto himself and the ex-Marine had a feeling that his protégé's next words would shed light on just where that skill had come from.

"Most of the time it wasn't my fault. I used to bait him sometimes. I'd break stuff on purpose or interrupt him or pour the wrong drink or…"

"Or breathe? There's no excuse, DiNozzo."

"When I was breathing too loudly for him, it wasn't my fault. Bet you noticed how quiet I breathe now, didn't you, Boss?" The laugh was forced in attempts to ease the tension radiating off his mentor.

Gibbs wasn't off-put by the humor, but he did allow a wry laugh as proof positive and to ease Tony. "You're no Stan Burley, that's for sure."

"I'd wait until he was a couple into the night and then I'd go running down the halls and knock something over. That was my best one. I knew it was a damned sure way to get a rise out of him."

A puzzled look crossed Gibbs' face. "Why the Hell would you do that, DiNozzo? You knew he'd…"

Tony scoffed. "Yeah, I knew. I knew he'd take his shoe to my back or his belt. If he were in a rare mood he'd use this metal ruler from his office. Those were the worst."

"So why?"

It was Tony's turn to laugh sardonically. "It was better than the alternative."

"Going under his radar? Getting away unscathed? Taking advantage of him forgetting about you for that much longer? Gotta tell you, kid. I'd fly low every time."

"Yeah, well you aren't me, now are you?" Gibbs could hear the slight tint of anger coloring Tony's voice and knew he had to tread lightly.

And then it hit him. Images of Tony baiting _him_ time and time again when he wasn't being paid enough attention. Tony going out of his way to antagonize Kate. Fighting to be heard over his co-workers' voices to show the work he'd done. Coming into the office at midnight to work a case. All the kid wanted was someone to simply realize he was alive.

"Your father didn't worry much about where you were or what you were doing when he didn't need a whipping boy, did he?" The question was quiet, and the understanding had the thankful effect of simmering Tony's anger back down to a simmering boil.

Tony agreed silently with a subtle movement of his head.

"Some people should never be allowed within a hundred feet of a kid. Worthless son of a bitch didn't know a good thing when he saw it."

"Hey!" And the anger was back, shocking Gibbs this time. "He's still my father."

"Yeah, but DiNozzo. He doesn't deserve the title."

"The man had a multi-million dollar company to oversee, the love of his life in constant states of depression and alcoholism, and the loss of his favorite son to deal with. He gave me a roof over my head, food, nice clothes, and everything. Made sure I had the best of the best of everything I needed. A lot of kids don't get that."

"Money isn't everything, DiNozzo. You know that. He sure as _Hell_ didn't give you everything that you needed. And gave you a lot of shit that you didn't." An image of Kelly running back from the school bus telling him that she absolutely wouldn't make it through the day unless he gave her another hug before she left stole his attention momentarily. DiNozzo's icy tone brought him back rapidly though.

"He did the God damned best he could." The pure ferocity in his quiet voice had Gibbs rethinking his position and verbally backing up as quickly as he could.

"Hey, calm down. I just don't understand it, is all." Gibbs paused for only a fraction of a second. "I'm sorry."

The apology did what any other words could not have accomplished. Tony was so shocked by the Marine breaking his own rule that he couldn't hold onto the defensive stance he had taken.

"He's my father; I just…I can't explain it any better than that." Gibbs could read between the lines now that the anger wasn't there to put him on the defensive.

"Your brother died; your mother, too. He's the only blood family you have left."

"Yes, sir." Tony nodded.

"He disowned you, DiNozzo. He beat the Hell out of you; told you flat out that you weren't any son of his. He didn't want to _be_ your family, kid. He made that painfully clear. Why let him off the hook like that?"

Tony turned on him again. "Who said anything about forgiving him for it? I hate him for what he did. I hate everything he did to me and to everyone else. I'll never see him as anything more than the man who shares my blood. But if he hadn't been who he was, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't know anything different than what he wanted for me. I wouldn't have helped all the people I've helped, met Abby or Ducky or you. I…I wouldn't…"

"You wouldn't have found a real family," the older man interrupted quietly, needing to remind Tony that blood didn't make you a family – not how it really mattered. Not in the way it needed to count in Tony's mind. Last names and bloodlines were all well and good, but they didn't mean anything in the long run. Especially when you had been cut off from having anything to do with that line at all of twelve years old.

If anyone asked Gibbs later if he had been so open, he would have denied it until he was blue in the face. But the light that returned to Tony's eyes when he worked out the meaning behind that was enough to make it worth it, reputation for the second 'b' standing for 'bastard' be damned.

Tony naturally steered the conversation far away from the thought that he could now be cared for like he should have been as a boy. "I wish like Hell things _had_ been different after Vinnie died; but they weren't. And without him there, I did everything I could to make sure that I wouldn't be forgotten. They were so busy seeing that I wasn't him that I think I was afraid they wouldn't remember that I was anyone more than 'the one who's not Vinnie'. And Marie had to watch silently and pick up the pieces."

~*~

"He hasn't spoken to me in over a week, Marie. Hasn't asked for a report or made me come to a dinner or anything. Did I do something wrong?"

Marie smiled gently as she trimmed the edges of Tony's hair. "Maybe it's a good week, then. You've been doing well in school and you know this is a busy time at work for him. It means you've gotten to read two of your books, and you haven't been punished in over a week." _And for that I'm thankful._

"But he hasn't said a word to me since two days after we got back from his battle. I'd rather be carrying that stupid, smelly bucket around than not get to see him or my mother." Tony ruffled his own hair as he looked in the mirror. "Do you think I'll get to see them tonight?"

"It's an important business meeting, Baby. I'm sure you'll be seen with them, but make sure not to interrupt them."

Tony nodded and adjusted the shoulders of his suit like his brother used to. "How do I look?"

"Like you'll make a very handsome sailor some day." _As long as the Navy takes you far away from the DiNozzo empire._ "Better get downstairs if you want some real food for dinner."

~*~

His mother's hand rested on one shoulder and his father's on the other as the family entered the large ballroom. Tony's smile at being able to lead his parents into the room perfected the image of the American family and no one would have suspected what that image hid. Soon, however, the boy found himself wandering between the guests and growing bored with the whole situation. Mostly his father's business partners and _not_ their families at this dinner, Tony couldn't even keep himself entertained by counting how many compliments the wives spewed out as they gushed over him.

He traipsed around the room swallowing unrecognizable hors d'oeuvres that his father had once assured Vinnie and him were the "pinnacle of being wealthy". All Tony knew was that they tasted horrible and did little to keep his stomach from growling. He was glad for the macaroni and cheese he had been fed in the kitchen beforehand.

Tony caught sight of his mother and steered clear. He was still wary of being caught too near her, and even the week of caring that she had played at before leaving him to Marie's more capable hands once more had done little to recreate the relationship that he looked for. Even the public setting did not give him enough security to approach. The new path he found himself on put his father dead center. He didn't want to verbally interrupt the man, but surely it would look good for the elder DiNozzo if his son were to weasel his way back under that hand. He didn't mean to bump his father's drink and spill it on the floor. He looked up in alarm and was mildly grateful for the sight of unblemished shirt and jacket. The squeeze to his collarbone was unpleasant and the pats on the head harsh, contrasting the easy laugh, but the man never said a word as he waived over his security chief to escort the son to the dessert table. Tony dropped his head and disappeared back into the crowd.

~*~

It was some time later when Tony's patience with the party snapped and the week of absolutely nothing from his father planted the mischievous seed in his mind. If he were to do something out of character, his father would have to pay attention to him. He could see the easy chair at the end of the room. He had a clear shot at it if he moved now. Tony tread over a few toes and accidentally bumped into a few knees as he made his way across the room. At last he reached his destination and executed a perfect spinning leap to land sitting angelically in the seat. Had he stopped there, the scattered laughter and applause would have been well met and the incident forgotten. Tony wasn't looking for recognition from the crowd, however, and with an extra, subtle kick of his feet as he landed, the boy used the extra momentum to cause the chair to overturn and spill him onto the ground with a loud crash. Heads turned and conversations were aborted as all turned to see if the little heir was all right.

Tony stood and dusted him off with a cheeky grin and dramatics that waylaid all intents of guests to offer assistance. Clearly the child was simply being a boy. His father quickly made his way over, flanked by his mother.

"I'm okay, Daddy." No harm in milking the opportunity when there was no way the title could be rebuked.

A hand wound around his shoulders and Tony couldn't help the smile at the comfort. Really, it was almost all he wanted.

"I think it's time for young Anthony to make his exit," his father announced to the room before leading Tony to the door. After the doors closed, the light support of his father's arm became yet another painful hold on his elbow. Not a word was said as he was dragged to his bedroom and shoved through the open door.

"Bed. Now." The voice was clipped and angry, but the loud slam of the door was worse. Tony was alone in the room. His father couldn't be bothered with a reprimand when his guests waited for him. It showed Tony exactly where he stood in his father's priorities.

Tears and sobs wracked his thin frame as the sailor suit was hastily traded for a sleeping shirt and pants. Covers were thoughtlessly peeled from the mattress and a shaking Tony slipped into the warmth of Vinnie's bed. It had been a long time since he'd slept down here, preferring the safety of being far away from the ground and the monsters that lived under the bed at night. He sobbed until his throat hurt and his pillow was soaked, and then continued to cry until he finally exhausted himself to the point of sleep, his face buried in the crook of his elbow that now rested on the damp pillowcase.

~*~

Soft snores escaped from the child some time later as he slept deeply on his stomach. One foot stuck off the side of the bed and one pillow was hanging precariously over the other edge. He slept on, blissfully unaware that anyone was watching him, and for once he wasn't dreaming of the basement monster.

Suddenly, his sleep was cut short as he was grabbed violently by the back of the shirt and silenced by a strong hand over his mouth. The strong smell of alcohol and cigar smoke alerted him that it was one of the party-goers.

"Make a sound before we're there, and this will be so much worse than any punishment you've had yet." The slightly slurred, gravelly voice belonged to his father and sent shivers of dread down his spine. He hadn't wanted the attention _this_ badly. The last thing he saw of his room was the alarm clock in the moonlight. Just after midnight.

~*~

The trip to his father's office was made without his feet touching the ground once, so the shock of the cold on his bare soles caused him to yelp as he was finally deposited next to the hated chair. The door was already closed shut and locked, so his father didn't comment on the noise.

"Get that damned shirt off, and get in that chair." Tony whimpered before complying, receiving a glare that threatened dire consequences if he didn't obey quickly.

His father was still mostly dressed from the party, but his tie was askew and he had apparently lost his belt somewhere. The man cursed as he remembered leaving his cane at the office and silently appraised his son's back as he thought. A soft hand trailed down Tony's spine and terrified the boy even more. The touch seemed almost compassionate and his mind couldn't link it successfully to the angry tone and countenance of the man completing the action.

He dared not move as he heard his father back away and open a desk drawer. The soft "this will do" did little to calm the eight-year old and Tony gulped down already present tears as his father's words finally turned to him after a long week of silence.

"I take you with me to meet my friends and take part in something I enjoy outside of work. I allow you to precede me into my own business dinner. I introduce you as my son as if I actually loved you. I say _nothing _when you spill my drink. And this is how you repay me?" Tony screeched as the chair was tipped over violently and he found his face being smashed into plush fabric as his neck was clamped down with a solid hand.

"Quiet! Do you want to wake up your mother?" Tony attempted to shake his head negatively as his father continued.

"I cannot begin to tell you," the first strike was unlike anything he had ever felt before as cool metal slapped across his shoulders – hot and bright and far more painful but fading much more quickly than the deep bruising he usually incurred.

"Can't begin to explain how embarrassed I am by you." Ten strong blows fell across his back in silence and Tony bit through his tongue trying not to further incur his father's anger. The silence was cutting into him as much as the punishment.

"You are no son of mine," another line of pain fell across his back and Tony began to feel something warm trickling down his sides like the tears down his face.

"You're worthless," a thirteenth strike had Tony seeing stars and spitting out blood.

"You've disgraced me." A fourteenth and Tony began to realize that he had never been hit this many times before and wasn't sure it was ever going to stop.

"You've disgraced you mother," another strike turned his stomach.

"You've disgraced the DiNozzo name," two more blows had Tony's vision graying out and sending him into a near panic.

"And you've completely and utterly disgraced the memory of your brother." Another line of pain stole his breath completely.

"Vincent would hate you and be absolutely humiliated by your behavior tonight." The last two strikes were harder than the previous eighteen and almost allowed the boy the bliss of unconsciousness. His father's last two sentences embedded themselves deeply into his mind and turned his thoughts inward as he tried to remember if Vinnie had ever been anything like the man was insinuating.

He was just beginning to float away when he was hauled to his feet. Tony knew that he was expected to stand tall and still, but the fiery ball of pain that was his back barely allowed him to remain upright.

A bloody metal ruler was tossed at his feet as the chair was set upright. Tony put his shirt on gingerly as pain spiked hot and unforgiving down his back. He was already wondering if he'd actually be able to make it down the halls and back to his room.

"And then," it seemed his father wasn't done with his tirade. At least he was talking to Tony. It was far better than the silence. "Then, you had the nerve to call me Daddy. Like I actually want to have any familiarity with such an ungrateful cur." The man was looking for something else to punish him with and settled for kicking off a shoe.

"Pick it up."

Tony stumbled to obey and crashed to his knees, shaking. He picked up the expensive shoe and held it out as he was hauled up once again by his collar. Only this time he wasn't set on his feet. He saw the shoe coming moments before his father backhanded it across his mouth, turning the boy's body in time with the connection to maximize the strike. Tony felt blood trickle down his chin as he was brought to the ground, his father kneeling over him, a fist almost choking him as it grasped his shirt at the neck. The second time his father brought the shoe down, it was heel first into his mouth. The boy heard his front two bottom teeth crack and felt the jagged edges catch on the already split lip. Two more blows fell across the upper half of his face before his father stopped abruptly.

"Shit."

Hauled up once more, Tony was barely aware of where he was being taken as he was finding it hard to see and even harder to focus. He felt the cool of the night air and retreated to the safety of his mind, not wanting to know what was coming next.

A loud knocking sound snapped the child momentarily out of his daze. Tony heard two people talking animatedly before he was tossed to the ground and took the brief reprieve to scurry into the nearest corner and cower away from the person kneeling in front of him. He couldn't take anymore.

~*~

DiNozzo pulled himself from the memories to the sound of his boss emptying the contents of his stomach in the bathroom next to the stairs. He had just gotten the energy and nerve to stand shakily, grasping the banister like a lifeline, when Gibbs came back to their current seat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Sit." The tone was soft and kind.

"Boss, I'm sorry."

"DiNozzo, don't you dare apologize." This was more angry and remonstrative.

"Right, sign of weakness. Got it." The self-defeating tone had Gibbs cursing.

"No, Tony." He shook his head and forced the younger man's chin up gently until their eyes met.

"Anthony, you don't apologize because all of this," he waved his free hand towards his Senior Agent's head indicating the memories, "and my reaction are NOT your fault. You don't apologize for what your father did, or the fact that I'm not ever going to be so much of a bastard that it's not going to affect me one way or another. You may be able to rationalize what your father did to you back then, what he's still doing now whether you realize it or not, but I can't do the same. Not when I can see what it does to you. The fact that one human can do any of that to another one, particularly one they are supposed to love more than life itself, and especially one with no way to fight back, is absolutely sickening to me. And if it were anyone else it would be to you as well. If you came across a kid now who was going through what you did, you wouldn't be able to put it out of your mind like you can with your own past. What he did is appalling, shameful, and abhorring and I don't care if he is your blood family. The man is a worthless addition to society and is disgusting and despicable. There is _nothing_ that you could have ever done to bait him that would be justification for what he did to you. Him beating you was. Not. Your. Fault."

The dripping vehemence in Gibbs' voice that punctuated each word finally struck a chord in Tony that no one had ever been able to reach before. He saw what had happened to him for the first time as an outsider would and was surprised to find himself clutching the back of Gibbs' shirt, shaking and crying. The images came unbidden and the next thing he was aware of was the reappearance of alcohol and coffee into the toilet bowl in front of him. He didn't even remember moving.

When his stomach was finished trying to turn inside out, Tony slumped back to rest his head against the wall behind him. He sipped at the water bottle that found its way into his hands.

"Come on. The spare room's made up. Why don't you get some rest?" It wasn't meant as a question, but DiNozzo wasn't sure he was ready to face dreamland quite yet.

"That's okay, Boss. I'm not much for sleep right now. You go ahead and I'll see you in the morning." The hand that lay under his elbow and helped him to his feet was gentle and steady, a far cry from the grips his father had used as his only real contact with Tony.

"Let me rephrase that. Go get some rest, DiNozzo. Lie down and stare at the ceiling for all I care. Lie down until you hear me making coffee, got it?"

The first true smile that had graced Tony's face all that night eased some of Gibbs' worries. "On it, Boss."

~~**~~

**So lots of Gibbs in this chapter and as I reread it, very _Good Will Hunting_, but there's only so many times he can be taciturn and actually expect to get through Tony's thick skull, so maybe his kind of drawn out speech there was a combination of knowing what Tony needed and needing to get his own frustrations out. And no, I don't think this would solve everything, but maybe it would be a basis for the kind of father-son relationship we very occasionally get to see on the show.**

**I also realized that ten chapters worth of Tony remembering his childhood would make for a very, very long night and I'm not sure either of the characters could handle it, so you may want to assume that most of these chapters happen on different nights. This one will definitely flow directly into the next one, but the story as a whole can either be read as one sitting or as several - just as an fyi.**


	5. Momentary Safe Haven

**_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Nothing too graphic in this chapter as it leads up to what happens in the next chapter. _**

**_Some of the flashbacks are more from other people's points-of-view in this chapter rather than Tony's – which isn't quite how I wanted to work it, but after what happened to him in Chapter 4, it simply wasn't feasible to leave it from his perspective. Let me know if it still works._**

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Chapter 5 – Momentary Safe-Haven

_GIBBS: My door's unlocked. _

_TONY: I know.  
_~ 1x10 – Left for Dead

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When Gibbs checked on his Agent a short twenty minutes later, the man in question was flopped across the bed snoring the remaining few hours of the night away. Tony looked so much younger in his sleep when his guard was completely down that it made the older man pause and wonder – and not for the first time – about strength of character. Lesser men had crumbled under the abuse that DiNozzo had endured. It was all Gibbs needed to see to allow Tony his masks, to let him play the carefree frat boy when he was at work – most of the time.

The coffee mug in his hands grew cold as he reflected on just how little Tony actually shared with others, and just how much trust he had placed in Gibbs himself to let the man know about his past – alcohol-induced or not. He couldn't imagine doing anything close to what DiNozzo had endured to Kelly, nor could he imagine Shannon letting it slide or approving it. The brief time he had been given with them was cherished greatly, and if there had been another child in his family dynamic, he couldn't begin to fathom causing himself to lose even more by turning his back on the child.

Satisfied that DiNozzo was at least getting some rest, Gibbs turned to his own room across the hall to catch a light catnap. Years of practice had him sleeping lightly, listening even in sleep for signs that his guest needed some more of his time.

~*~

It started out slowly at first. There was just a small whimper every so often or an occasional twitch of a limb that would alert anyone who happened to be watching the man in question to the newest batch of nightmares that assaulted his unconscious mind. Tony had known better; he had known the nightmares would come, and had tried to stave off sleep. But alcohol, exhaustion, and a feeling of safety had combined to overcome his once tenacious hold on consciousness. He couldn't even seem to shake the vestiges of sleep as the nightmare progressed. Sweat collected on his brow and down his back as he rolled onto his side in attempts to escape the images in his head. It was only a short time later that he shot up silently, shaking off the last of his memories. His first glance was to the door, hoping that he hadn't woken Gibbs. Some things he still needed to remember on his own.

~*~

The small guesthouse at the back of the property was serene in the middle of the night. With her duties complete for the evening and knowing that Tony would most likely fall asleep on one of the chairs and be left under a suit jacket until morning, Marie had turned in early after speaking with her daughter. She didn't expect to hear the sharp sounds of someone at her door at nearly one thirty in the morning and almost didn't answer the door, afraid of what might await her. But when the knocking continued, she finally made her way to the door.

To say that the sight on the doorstep shocked her would be an understatement. Almost a year of standing by and trying to give Tony as much support as she could while still protecting her own daughter's interests had worn Marie thin. The sight of the little boy being held away from the ground and from the warmth of his father's chest sent her over the edge.

"What the Hell have you done to him?" Marie reached out to take the boy when he squirmed away from her touch.

"I won't have that tone, Marie. He was embarrassing this evening."

"So embarrassing that you did _that_ to him? Do you even see what you're doing?" She reached out to take Tony again, only to have her employer drop him to the ground as if merely holding him had singed his fingers. She watched with growing concern as Tony scurried away from her to curl up in a ball between her couch and the wall.

She turned back at the sigh she heard. "I brought him here, didn't I? Now, I expect you to keep him out of sight until he can be seen in public. I'll have the physician here in an hour to take a look at him. Just…take care of him."

There was something in his voice that made her wonder if the shadow of a man not crumpled by grief and appearances was hiding somewhere way beneath the mask of hatred that he now wore. Marie spared little time to wonder about it as the actions he had taken against the boy condemned him to her hatred. Besides, she had a more important DiNozzo to worry about.

~*~

The shivering, battered form that cowered against the furniture was unaware of anything around him. He was still seeing the shoe coming down at his face with no hope of avoiding it, still hearing the slice of metal through air. Tony couldn't understand yet that he was safer where he was now than he had possibly been in all the time since his brother had been killed. Images of his time with his father were assaulting him and merging with what his eyes should have been seeing. He could see his father now, kneeling over him and speaking of yet another lesson. He cringed away from the hand coming at his face, tears beginning anew.

"No, please. Please no more. Please don't touch me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry; I won't do it again. Please."

~*~

The words cut at Marie as she reached out to brush some of Tony's hair out of his eyes. She needed to get him out of the ball he'd curled himself in so she could see what damage had been done besides his face, and didn't expect the fear she'd inadvertently caused.

"Tony. Tony, sweetheart, it's just me. It's Marie. I won't hurt you, Baby. I promise; I won't hurt you. Tony, come on now. Come here, Baby." She leaned back away from the boy when all she wanted to do was wrap him tightly in her arms and help to make him feel safe again. Marie schooled the hurt out of her voice as he didn't respond and kept offering soft, soothing words as she waited.

When Tony didn't seem any more likely to uncurl after a few minutes of her pleas, Marie pulled a blanket down off the couch and covered him with it. She raced for a washcloth and bowl of warm water from the kitchen while keeping an eye on the boy lest he try to bolt. Returning to Tony's side, she began speaking softly again as she slowly reached in with the cloth to sponge away the tears and blood. He flinched away at the initial contact, and again each time she removed the cloth to rinse it, but soon the gentle motions settled him and his eyes began to drift shut.

"Tony, Baby?" Marie kept her voice as soft as she could when she saw the tense shoulders begin to droop. It frightened her to see him so lost, and what she could see of his eyes through the swelling concerned her. She could tell that he was somewhere far away.

"Come on, sweetheart. It's Marie. You're safe now, Tony. Come back to me, Baby."

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Tony lifted his head slightly.

"Marie?" His voice was quivering and guardedly hopeful. Could his nightmare be over?

"It's me, Tony. You're safe now." She reached in again to brush the bangs from his eyes and was rewarded with a soft smile. It looked gruesome with the gaping hole in the middle of his bottom lip showing broken teeth, but was enough to calm her fraying nerves.

"Hurts, Marie." The soft admission was met with more tears and sniffles. Eyes screwed shut as memories threatened to overtake the boy again, and she could no longer sit back and wait for him to come to her.

Marie slowly reached into the corner and let out a held breath as Tony didn't shy away from the hands that pulled him into her lap. But as she wrapped her arms around his shaking frame, she had to pull away just as quickly as Tony gasped in pain and she felt the warm liquid that dampened his shirt. She wasn't sure who was crying harder as she shifted her arms to support him by the back of the neck with one arm and used the other to peel the fabric up and over his head.

"Oh, Tony." There was nothing she wanted to do more than race for the bathroom and empty her stomach and then whisk him away from this place once and for all, but neither could be done.

She had just managed to settle him against her chest to avoid further injury, intent on getting him to her bedroom to lay him down when the door rattled again. The boy in her arms screeched at the sound and attempted to flee, but the soft reassurances in his ears kept him secure with his cheek resting on her shoulder.

"Just a minute," she called out as she carefully set the boy down on his stomach on her bed and closed the door with a soft, "stay here, Baby."

The bleary-eyed physician at the door turned to glare at the DiNozzo who had heralded him from his bed across the city. "I'll take it from here, sir. You should get back to your wife."

DiNozzo nodded curtly to the two of them before stalking off across the lawn. The white-haired doctor shook his head in disgust before turning to Marie. "Where's Anthony?"

~*~

"I don't know how he's going to react to you being here. He's terrified beyond belief right now."

"I wasn't told quite what to expect, but after seeing that," he waved absently towards the main house, "I can only imagine."

He asked for a glass of water and tapped a white powder into it. "See if he'll let me see him. And if you can't, try this. If you can get Anthony to drink it, he'll never know I was here. It's enough of a sedative to keep him asleep and let me work without making him worse."

Marie nodded.

"I'll wait out here until you come and get me. What kind of damage am I looking at?"

"There was blood on his back and all over his face. I haven't really seen anything else. It took me this long just to get him out of that corner over there." There were pink stains where Tony had been hiding.

The physician nodded and took a seat on Marie's couch as she entered the bedroom quietly.

~*~

"Tony, Baby, are you awake?"

Sniffles answered her and she padded over to the nightstand to turn on a light. The soft glow accentuated the bruised cheeks and made the boy look even worse.

"Hey there, Tony. Your doctor's here to take a look at you. Is it okay if he comes in?"

Tony sniffled again and looked to the door while biting at his upper lip. "He's going to have to see either way, isn't he? See how bad I was to end up like this?"

"You weren't bad, Baby. Your father was. But yes, he needs to see what happened to you."

Tony didn't respond to the assurance that this wasn't his fault, instead looking for comfort. "You'll stay?"

"As long as he doesn't tell me that I need to go. The doctor's word is golden, sweetheart. Other than that, I'll stay."

When he nodded, Marie deposited the glass on a dresser and turned to get the man before Tony could change his mind.

~*~

Tony's fingers were tangled in her pant legs as his head rested on her thigh. His bare back was currently being washed with an antiseptic before the physician could evaluate. Hot tears coursed down his face and soaked the linen beneath his cheek as he tried to ignore the pain that the gauze was creating. This was a far cry from Marie's soft touch and was causing his breathing to hitch as he began to imagine the lessons that had led to now.

"Shh, Tony. Calm down, Baby, it's almost over." Marie stroked her fingers over the back of his locks as she tried to keep him from flinching too badly. She could see the three lacerations that the physician was pointing out to her and then to the suture kit next to Tony's knee.

"It would be better if he drank at least some of that water before I begin. He doesn't like these," he held up a syringe, "and it will make the pain better anyway." The whisper wasn't enough to be heard by sensitive ears over his tears.

Marie nodded and reached beneath the boy in question's armpits to gently bring him to his knees. "You up for some water, Tony? It'll make you feel better."

Tony nodded as he tried to scrub the tears from his cheeks without aggravating the bruises there. He managed about a third of the glass before the physician nodded that it would be enough to calm him without completely sedating him.

"There you go, my brave boy. Why don't you lay back down now so the doctor can finish with your back in a few minutes?"

Tony nodded and obediently did as he was told, allowing the drugs and the rhythmic motions of Marie's fingers through his hair to soothe him. He never noticed the needle punctures that numbed his back.

Thirty-seven stitches and ample amounts of antibiotic cream and gauze later, Tony's back was treated. He was barely awake as Marie lifted him into her arms and his eyes slid shut as she leaned back against the headboard. Tony was asleep when the doctor began to examine his face.

"Are those baby teeth, or have they already fallen out?"

Marie smiled grimly. "Tony was very excited when the Tooth Fairy left him his prizes for those teeth almost two years ago now. They're his permanent teeth."

"I was afraid of that. He's going to need to have them repaired by a dentist as soon as possible. I can take care of the lip, and ice should do the trick for the rest of his face. There doesn't seem to be anything broken."

~*~

It was some time later when Tony shook off the last of the sedative and almost immediately ran his tongue over the newly sutured lip. He could hear the steady beat of a heart in his ear, and could feel that he was curled into someone's lap, one hand cuddling his head to the chest he was listening to and the other arm keeping him steady by supporting his neck and shoulder. The smell of lilacs and vanilla let him know that he was still in Marie's arms. It had been a long time since he had felt this safe.

"Are you awake, Tony?" The soft whisper was light and airy, almost as if the speaker didn't want him to hear.

"Yes, ma'am." He was shocked at how hoarse his voice was.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy." He was surprised to note that nothing hurt too badly. "Sore."

"You're going to be all right, Baby. Just get some sleep, all right?" Tony fisted his hand in her shirt and held on tightly until she began to rock him, letting the boy know through her actions that she wasn't planning on moving for the night.

It was some time later when Tony spoke again. "What time did I get here?"

"What?" Marie wasn't quite sure where he was going with this.

"What time did my father bring me here?"

"Late, almost one thirty, why?"

Tony paused and she wondered if he'd fallen back asleep. "He spent over a whole hour with me, then. Just me."

"Oh, Baby." _This isn't worth it, Tony. His time isn't worth this much pain._

Marie continued to rock her charge until his eyes began to slide shut once more. She thought he was out for the night when his quiet voice piped up once more.

"It's my birthday next week, Marie. I'll be nine then. Do you think I'll be big enough for things to change then? Maybe if I weren't so little, I wouldn't mess up so much and maybe they'd like me again. Do you think so, Marie? Will it be different after my birthday?"

The eyes that looked out from beyond the swelling and the hopeful smile that showed two cracked teeth and the rest of the evidence of his father's 'love' gave her the courage to say, "I'm sure being nine will make a world of difference in your life."

She couldn't have known just how right she'd be.

~*~

"What happened to staying in that bed until I made coffee, DiNozzo?" Gibbs supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to hear Tony moving from the room and taking refuge once again on the basement stairs. The man in front of him was leaning on the wooden railing overlooking the boat and made no move to acknowledge that he had been discovered.

"Tony?" He was surprised, however, at the tear tracks, and wondered how caught up in the memories his agent was not to make a move to scrub the evidence of his supposed weakness away.

Almost as soon as he thought it, he saw Tony do exactly that; trying his best to muster a smile and ran both hands down his face.

"I'm fine, Boss. Just…needed to be here, that's all." He couldn't explain it better than that, but figured that Gibbs already understood.

"Fine, hmm? I've seen your definition of fine, DiNozzo. Forgive me if I don't head back to my bed just yet, will you? Nightmares? I didn't hear anything."

"Yeah, I doubt you would have. I got really good at being quiet after it was just him and me. He didn't appreciate them too much, and it was one lesson that I wasn't keen to have to learn more than once." Gibbs nodded.

"You want to talk about it?" He knew the answer before it was given.

"No, not really."

"Okay. What do you want to talk about then?" Gibbs heard the incredulous laugh and leaned forward to match his position to Tony's.

The silence stretched between them for more than ten minutes as Tony ran his lip over the rough patch on the inside of his lip and remembered more of his childhood than he'd ever wanted to. Gibbs stood next to him and thought over what he had learned over the past two years about the man he considered would be his replacement one day.

"I miss her."

"Who? Your mother?"

Tony laughed. "Nah. Well, yeah, I suppose I miss her too. But just because she was my mother, and I do remember her before Vinnie died. She had the greatest laugh, and she always smelled like strawberries. I remember that. But after he died, I don't think I ever heard her laugh again. No, I was thinking about Marie. That week I spent living out in her rooms was probably the best week I had after Vinnie died. It was the closest thing I had to…she did more for me than I could have ever thanked her for. More than I ever did thank her for. I thought she'd always be there, you know? Even though I knew that no one stays around forever, it just never occurred to me that there'd be a time when she wasn't there."

Gibbs nodded quietly, if there was one thing he was an expert in, it was that you never expected someone not to be there.

"Sorry, Boss. Didn't mean to dredge up _your _memories." Gibbs scoffed at the quiet apology and realized that even with too little sleep and his own demons to battle Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was more observant than most. It was one of the reasons he'd hired him, and one of the reasons he would always fight tooth and nail to keep him around.

"When did you find out, DiNozzo? About…"

Tony laughed ruefully. "When I was on my…vacation…between Baltimore and here. Got bored in my apartment and couldn't bring myself to unpack another box. Googled you as an NCIS agent and found out you'd been a Gunny before that and then Googled you that way. One thing led to another and I didn't think I'd find anything, but something felt off. I killed almost a whole day trying to figure out what made you leave the Marines. Didn't seem like a career move that would have come without some prompting. Finally used a couple of contacts to get into Franks' cases and found the file. I won't…I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about."

"I know you won't, DiNozzo." Gibbs was inwardly pleased that DiNozzo had taken such an interest into what he was getting himself into. It made things easier, somehow. He realized that he had gotten them off topic, and he wanted Tony to get at least a little bit of rest tonight. Preferably before he dropped from exhaustion onto the cold basement steps. The former college athlete was a nightmare as dead weight.

"I'm sure she knew how much you appreciated her, Tony. All parents know things like that." The brief smile of acknowledgement that gave the honor of position to Marie settled them both.

"What happened, your father get rid of her because she was treating you too much like a human being?" Gibbs knew the tone of voice and intended slur at Tony's father was dangerous to voice out loud, but he'd be damned if he'd censor himself. The younger man next to him needed to know that not everyone he met would share his father's convictions as to his 'uselessness'.

"She was right. She told me that being nine would make my life completely different. And it really was." The clenching of Tony's jaw line and tightening of his fists around the railing, coupled with the rapid, shallow breathing had Gibbs struggling to ferret out which emotions were being quickly suppressed. His inability to see DiNozzo's eyes hindered the decision. The words that finally made it out from Tony's lips laid his feelings bare. The waves of self-loathing, regret, and anger almost bowled Gibbs over as tears pooled in the corner of hazel eyes and five words breathed out.

"It was all my fault."

~~**~~


	6. The Heart's Last Stand

**_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Tony's father is his usual sadistic self and everyone has to pay the price..._**

* * *

**Chapter 6 – The Heart's Last Stand**

_TONY__: So because I grew up with money, that somehow makes me bad. Very deep._

_KATE__: Well, it's better than having to work every day, like I had to._

_TONY__: Listen; you think money makes life easier, huh? Everything was just a big old cakewalk for little Anthony DiNozzo? Tell me, Kate, 'cause I really want to know._

~ 2x11 – Black Water

* * *

"Happy birthday, dear Anthony. Happy birthday to you." The chorus of school friends, house workers, and Tony's parents finished up as the excitable now nine-year old blew out the candles on his cake. The pile of presents on the table to his left was higher than his head, and he was impatient to see what his haul had been this year. He was surrounded by boys fighting to get the largest piece of cake, and barely noticed when first his mother, then his father beat a hasty retreat. They had put in their time and had more important things to tend to – Macallan18 scotch and bourbon with mint were clearly going to go to waste otherwise.

Marie smiled as the boys decimated the cake and turned the backyard into a battlefield. The summer had been uncharacteristically hot, and any excuse for water to be introduced into the boys' games was highly appreciated. She moved to clean up some of the devastation on the back patio before stopping to watch Tony as he crept behind enemy lines and turned the hose on the unsuspecting boys. _If only he could be that undetectable to his father._

The bruises had mostly faded from his face, and as long as the shirt stayed on his back, there was little to suspect anything amiss. Tony still walked carefully, as if too much movement would bring about unbearable pain, but his teeth gleamed from the dental work and the stitches were long gone now. He had spent the last two nights in his own bedroom, being deemed acceptable to be seen once more.

~*~

"Did you like your presents, Tony?" One of the boys, who was now soaked thanks to the sneak attack, asked.

Tony grinned and nodded as the boys made their way back to dry off and reapply sunscreen before expending more of their overabundance of energy on the various games that had been set up.

"What happened to your face?" Another of the boys poked a finger at the scar on Tony's lip.

"I got into a fight with my cousin Petey a couple weeks ago."

The boys that crowded around him nodded. One of them quietly asked, "he say something about your brother?" They all knew how hot Tony's temper got with any mention of Vinnie.

"What did your parents get you, Tony?"

"All that stuff." The boy looked at the pile of presents that he knew had been picked out by Marie or one of his father's personal assistants. He had picked up on that from his brother long ago, but he was still young enough that the sheer volume of new toys outweighed the disappointment that his brother had often voiced at the meaninglessness. There had also been a promise that his father had a surprise of his own for Tony, but the boy wasn't sure if it was going to be something he wanted. He just didn't know anymore.

~*~

The rest of the day had gone by in a flash, and it was over entirely too soon for Tony's liking. His father had been pointedly ignoring him since the incident that night, and the memories were still too raw to put the boy at any sense of ease. He wasn't sure which was worse, the silence at the dinner table or the scratchy suit that was making him antsy. His mother hated the look of him in these sailor suits, and Tony couldn't understand why she would purposely subject herself, and subsequently him, to what she despised.

He smiled at the woman who placed his favorite dish in front of him and waited until his father finished speaking to dig in. Lasagna with warm bread and a small salad filled his plate and he could remember Vinnie complaining about having to eat all of the vegetables before the spumoni would be brought out. Tony knew that cleaning his plate was expected of him, but no one had to tell him twice as he was usually asking for seconds before anyone else had finished their firsts.

"Did you enjoy your birthday, Anthony?" The soft voice of his mother startled Tony and he nearly dropped the spoonful of ice cream that had been making its way to be devoured. This was not the tone he had become accustomed to hearing recently – his mother was surprisingly sober.

He nodded and swallowed before answering as he was expected to do. "Yes, ma'am. I had an excellent day."

"And you liked your presents?"

Again, an answer to the affirmative as the boy subconsciously tried to see if there was some ulterior motive to her questions.

"Your father has told me that he has one more surprise for you, my Dear." That set Tony on edge and had him gulping before turning to set eyes on the man across the table from him.

Tony's father cleared his throat before appraising the boy in front of him. The nine-year old was worrying the spot on his lip that had recently been freed from its sutures, and the bruises on his face were still visible enough to cause notice.

"I suppose you're old enough now. In a few weeks, when you're acceptable looking again, I'm going to take you for a whole day to my office so that you can see where I work. You'll get to see all the meetings and the important decisions I make everyday. With Vincent gone and only you around, you'll be taking over for me in the future, so you'll be able to see what your future holds for you."

"Doesn't that sound like fun, Dear?"

At nine years old, Tony wasn't yet able to mask his feelings quite as well as he would be able to in the future, but he was starting to be able to hide them other ways. Feigned exuberance was one of them.

"That sounds really excellent, Father. I can't wait." There were several things that Tony couldn't wait for. The latest _Star Wars_ movie had come out in the year previous, and he couldn't wait for the next one. The annual trip to the country home was coming up in a few weeks and promised for several days free of his father's influence. The second season of _Magnum P.I._ was set to start in the coming months. These things had Tony antsy with anticipation. Visiting his father's office and sitting through meetings for an entire day? That did not.

"We will set up a time for you to visit before school starts again, then. Finish your dessert and then you may be excused."

"Yes, sir."

~*~

"He thinks I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Who wants to sit in some dumb office all day and listen to people talk, Marie? It sounds boring. Why would I want to do that?"

Marie laughed quietly as she tried to wrestle the boy into a clean shirt for bed. "Still want to go into the Navy like Vinnie did, then?"

"Yes, ma'am," the sloppy salute assured her that the 'ma'am' was in jest. His father had recently overheard the two talking and had broken the almost month-long absence of 'lessons' to instruct Tony to always refer to adults as sir or ma'am. Tony hadn't sat back in a chair for nearly a week. Thankfully for Marie's peace of mind, it had only taken her two days to remind the boy that the crisp informality was to be forgotten once his father was out of ear-shot for the night.

Still, she needed to make sure that her own lessons weren't being lost among the pain of his father's.

"Anthony DiNozzo, what have I told you about calling me ma'am?" The mock sternness caused the boy to hop off of the bed and stand at a far more impressive form of attention than his father ever warranted.

"That using 'sir' or 'ma'am' is most definitely a sign of respect and all adults should be thought of and addressed as such," the words that were just a bit beyond his grammar level caused the boy to falter under quiet giggles – he never could stay serious for too long, "but should only be used for people with very significant jobs and people who need to be reminded that they are important."

"And?"

"And if someone tells you that it's all right not to use such stiff…such…"

"Stiff informality," Marie smiled at the confused expression. Tony had a mind like a steel trap for memories, but didn't always understand what he was recalling. "It means someone you have to be very careful with."

"Stiff informality, then you do not need to call them anything other than what you usually do…unless Father is around."

"Right, so since your father is out at a dinner function, I don't want to hear you call me 'ma'am'. Understood?"

"But Marie." The boy leaned into her hip and threw his arms around her waist. "You have the most important job of all."

Tears pricked at her eyes as she hugged the boy and wondered again how his parents could be so cold to him.

"At least you'll get to spend the day with him, Tony. And not at one of his battles. You like that, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. I guess."

"And you'll behave yourself? And not cause any trouble?"

Tony shook his head. "I'll try not to."

Marie tucked him into bed with another quiet laugh and a shake of her head. "Trouble seems to follow you around like a lost puppy dog, Anthony DiNozzo. Just try to keep it to a dull roar tomorrow."

~*~

The limousine ride to his father's office the next morning was strained and quiet. Tony hadn't been locked alone with his father anywhere this small since before Vinnie had died and he wasn't entirely sure that the man wouldn't just start wailing on him since the boy had nowhere to hide. The crisp new suit that irritated his neck was uncomfortable, but his father had insisted that despite the late summer heat that was predicted for the day, no heir of his was going to look anything less than exquisitely dressed. Tony longed for the mesh Navy shorts and _Star Wars_ shirt that waited for him on his bed. The play clothes were barely tolerated by his father, but after the third time Tony had ripped the knees of one of his expensive suits climbing one of the trees in the backyard, the man had stopped commenting.

"Remember, Anthony. This is a privilege that, if you behave, we will repeat in the future. I expect you to be on your best behavior and try not to disappoint me too badly today. You step out of line one time, and I will teach you a lesson that you will never forget. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Tony nodded quickly, wondering if his father thought he'd forget any of the lessons he had been subjected to.

"We'll see." The dismissive tone underlined just how much faith the elder DiNozzo put into the boy's promise. Tony took it in stride and turned to look out the window as the car navigated the streets of the city.

"You work here?" In his nine years, Tony had never seen so many people or so many tall buildings this close together. He very rarely left the neighborhood of estates other than for school or the occasional social event that required his presence, and had never been allowed to accompany his parents into the heart of the city. The never ending bustle of the morning commute astounded him.

It didn't take long for the novelty of the experience to wear off and for the short attention span of the nine-year old to be lost. It seemed that all his father did was push papers around his desk and make angry phone calls. The business meeting that morning had made Tony wonder if the apprehensive looks on the board members' faces matched the look on his own face when his father was 'teaching' him. They all seemed frightened that what they had to say would end in their untimely departure from the seat they occupied. The only thing the day with his father had taught him was that he most definitely did not want this job when he was an adult. Vinnie had had the right idea after all.

He was staring out the window to the street many stories below when his father came up behind him at the end of the day.

"What are you gawking at?"

Not being in his father's study, the boy answered with more of his nine-year old character than he normally would.

"It's so cool. These cops, the ones over there, have been watching that guy over there and waiting for him to mess up. See, now they're going after him. Look, it's just like on television, they're splitting up and they're gonna corner him. He doesn't stand a chance, but he doesn't know it yet. It'd be so cool to be able to do that." The instant the words were out of his mouth, Tony knew it was the wrong thing to say. Even more, the bruising grip on the back of his neck let him know that he was in for it.

"You will be taking over for me when you grow up and you will not dishonor me further by dragging our name into law enforcement. If you ever want to amount to anything in your life, you will do as I say." The words were whispered in his ear with an icier tone than he'd ever care to hear again. To anyone else, it looked like a father having an amicable chat with his son, but they couldn't see the stark fear that gripped Tony's visage.

~*~

Tony had long since learned to take his father's words with the utmost importance when the man was around and to casually discard them as soon as he was out of sight. He had discovered today that without a doubt, if he couldn't go into the Navy, then he wanted to be a police officer. He had been watching episodes of _Magnum, P.I._ with Marie over the past year, but seeing the bust on the street today had solidified his second choice.

"How way your day, Tony?" Marie's voice interrupted his recreation of the raid with his action figures.

"It was great, Marie. I got to see the coolest thing!"

She looked puzzled. The boy in front of her was no more cut out for the business world than his brother had been. She had no idea what could have captured his interest.

"What did you see?"

"What I want to be when I grow up. If I can't be like Vinnie, I mean. You see, there were these two cops outside, right. And they arrested this other guy before he even knew what was happ…" he trailed off as the elder DiNozzo strode into the bedroom.

"Anthony, my office. Now."

"Umm, not to interrupt you, sir. But your wife wandered into your office looking for something earlier, and we haven't quite finished with the clean-up yet. We're working on it."

The tone of voice changed instantly from wholehearted contempt to utter concern. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine, sir. Last I saw of her, she was in her sitting room with a mimosa." Marie's tone carefully mixed concern with disdain.

"Anthony, meet me in the study then. I'll be along as soon as I check on the state of things. Marie, see that we are not disturbed when we are in there. I would like to talk to Anthony about our day."

Marie looked sympathetically at the little boy in front of her. He was studying his bare feet with more intensity than a boy should be able to, refusing to look up even after his father had left the room. "I'll wait for you just outside the door, Tony. I'll look after you when he's through."

~*~

Tony had been waiting in the study for almost an hour when his father got around to finding him. The man's tie was off-kilter and a smudge of lipstick lingered on his earlobe.

"Is Mother all right?" The boy hoped to diffuse his father by being the son he was told he should be instead of the one he was.

"It's not your concern, Anthony. But she's fine." There was a distinct slur in his words that hadn't been there before. He motioned to the liquor cabinet dismissively and turned to the mantle over the fireplace. Tony was concentrating on pouring exactly three fingers of the scotch and didn't hear the crack-hiss of a match being lit.

"Bring the bottle over with you, boy."

"Yes, sir." An ice cube was added to the glass before the bottle was placed in the bucket to chill it and both were carried over to the antique table near his father. The boy looked in confusion at the fire now crackling on the hearth. Maybe his father had the flu and needed the warmth?

"Come sit with me, here."

Tony came hesitantly to sit next to his father and stared up at the man. He tried to listen intently as his father told the story of how the business that now bore their last name had blossomed under the hand of his grandfather and great-grandfather, but soon found himself staring into the fire at his side. He was glad that he had changed out of the suit as the heat made him sweat, but lost his thoughts to the dance of the flames. Only when the bottle he had brought was completely empty and his father's slurred words had become indistinguishable did he take in his surroundings again. Why hadn't he slipped off when he'd had the chance?

The elder DiNozzo was no longer sitting on the hearth, but standing ominously over him waving the last of the scotch in his face. Tony began to listen again.

"My father was a great man. He never had to motivate me to follow in his footsteps, and I should have known better than to think that his lessons were too rough for you and your brother. If I had listened to him and been tougher on the two of you from the start, we wouldn't be in the mess we are now. Now, it seems, I'm going to have to find better ways to make you see your place. I'll have to hold your feet to the fire to do better in math and to…" Tony paled as his father trailed off. The look in the glazed eyes signified that he'd just had a brilliant idea and that never boded well before one of his 'lessons'.

"Hold your feet to the fire…that's it, isn't it?"

Tony had never tried to run away from his lessons after the first time when instinct fueled him. He had always taken his licks, telling himself that his father knew best and he would never do something unnecessary. But the sharp crackle of the flames that had captivated his interest and his father's words shot abject terror through him.

He only made it two steps towards the door before his father swept him up, pinning his arms to his side. Tony struggled and kicked and began to screech as his father began speaking again.

"Now, this is for your own good, boy. You're bringing this on yourself by making it difficult for me to trust you. Look, you were even thoughtful enough to take your shoes off for me. Now be quiet like a good boy and learn your lesson."

There was nothing Tony wanted to do less, and he squirmed and kicked his feet out, planting them on either side of the brick chimney as he fought to get free. When the man holding him captive leaned back from the upright and then swept forward again quickly after changing his grip to pin his legs too, Tony had no time to react.

At first, it felt almost as though the soles of his feet were cold. Then he looked down and saw the orange glow that was encroaching on him and he brought his knees back to his chest. His father simply lowered his whole body until he had nowhere to go.

Bright pain began at his heels and danced up to his toes. Tears pooled and began to flow down his cheeks as he had no way to escape from the burning that singed his skin and sapped moisture. His feet weren't even in the flames yet and it was already worse pain than he could ever imagine.

As his father leaned back to give the boy a reprieve, Tony fought even harder to flee the man's grasp. He was aware of the blood pooling in his mouth from where he'd bit into his tongue – his father had warned him about making a noise during his lessons, and he took that to heart. Without conscious thought, Tony slammed his head back and heard the sickening crack as his father's nose flattened as cartilage tore and bone splintered.

"You little bastard!" Blood was now flowing down the side of Tony's face where it met with the bricks and he was feeling nauseous and dizzy. He had no time to steel himself when his father plunged his feet once more into the fireplace, this time dropping all the way to the embers.

Tony screamed as the pain intensified and was vaguely aware of someone else's shouts accompanying his own.

"Oh my God, what on _Earth_ are you doing to your son?"

Tony's world tilted on his axis as his father violently sprung to his feet and was wrenched around. He felt his own small body collide painfully with something warm and heard something hard bouncing off the wood table followed by the thud of something massive dropping to the floor like a stone.

"Now look what you've done, you worthless piece of shit. Look at all the trouble you've caused now." Tony was dropped to his feet and immediately fell to his knees. His vision swam dangerously and blackness infringed on his vision, only to be shocked away as he took in the sight he'd been dropped into.

The first thing he noticed was the ice all over the floor, shining in the light of the flames and taunting him as his tears continued to fall. He wanted nothing more than to gather up the ice and pile it under his feet. Tony even reached out to snag a piece when he heard his father's voice on the phone. His vision expanded to identify what had caused the ice to spill and he noticed the red substance dripping off the table. When the scene in front of him finally all fell into place, Tony started to shake uncontrollably. The pain in his feet was long forgotten as pain clenched his heart.

He was kneeling at Marie's side, his hand clutched in hers. Her face was white and peaceful as she stared up at the ceiling. The blood that was dripping off the table was pooled around her head. Slowly, her eyes rolled to meet Tony's, and then, with a soft smile that would haunt his dreams far into the future, the hand holding his fell to the floor.

~~**~~

* * *

**I had to do it. I swear.**


	7. Solidifying Guilt

**_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Tony's father is his usual sadistic self, but most of these flashbacks are more mental than physical._**

**_Thanks to Kylen who not only has given me more new plot ideas than I should be allowed to have at one time, but also took on the task of beta-reading for me – especially since I popped this chapter on her and pretty much gave her no time to proof it. All mistakes remaining are mine._**

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Solidifying Guilt**

_ZIVA: You have not listened to anything I have said._

_TONY: Well it's only been three years. I'm a slow learner._

_ZIVA: And a slow healer... You're crying over spilled milk._

_TONY: It's not milk that I spilled.  
_~ Judgment Day (2) 5x19

* * *

Gibbs reached out to lay a hand gently on Tony's shoulder in support, but was surprised at how violently his friend shied away.

"Don't Gibbs. Please." The words were choked; from pain or anger Gibbs couldn't tell. He could see the tearstains on the man's shirt sleeves from where he'd violently scrubbed at his face. The need to do something – anything – as Tony had continued talking tore at Gibbs, but the younger man had repeatedly pulled away from any comfort Gibbs had tried to offer.

Gibbs dropped his hand back down to his side and leaned back against the doorjamb. If space was what Tony needed, then it was the least he could do – even if instincts long thought dead were urging him to offer a tactile reminder that he wasn't alone. A silent yawn caught him off guard, and Gibbs was glad that Tony's back was still to him – after all, he wasn't as young as he once was, but he would be damned if he was going to abandon Tony for something as trivial as sleep.

"You should go to bed."

Gibbs supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He had hired the young investigator first and foremost for his ability to be observant under even the most trying of circumstances. "Nah. Just need some coffee, is all."

Tony snorted his thoughts on the matter, but shook his head ruefully and attempted a deep breath. It caught in his lungs and came out as more of a cross between a cough and a sob. He dropped his head down until his chin smacked his chest and drew his shoulders back until some of his vertebrae cracked audibly. His knuckles turned white as he clutched the wooden railing for dear life and tried to wrestle his emotions back under control.

"Tony, it's not…"

"Don't. Just don't, okay? I don't want to hear it. I may not have pushed her. I may not have been able to stop my father, but she's still dead because of me. Her daughter still doesn't have a mother because of me and because of my goddamned mouth. Her daughter had her mother ripped away from her because I couldn't just shut up for once. It's my fault."

Gibbs scoffed. "Yeah. Yeah, Tony. Maybe you're right. Maybe it is your fault."

Fire and betrayal burned in Tony's eyes as he turned abruptly, and Gibbs almost took back the words. Almost. Tony needed to deal with this, head on. Maybe the best way to get him to do that was to get him angry.

"I expect that from my father, Gibbs." His words were scathing, a sure sign that Gibbs' ploy had gone under Tony's normally astute radar. The older investigator only hoped it didn't backfire. "He was the first one to tell me Marie's death was on my shoulders. I was nine years old, for God's sake. She wasn't even dead yet and he was already telling me that it was my fault. She was lying on the ground, bleeding, and he was already on the phone with someone to cover it up. He wasn't the last one to blame me, though. And I never thought you'd join the list." He turned his back to Gibbs again.

"I know that I didn't kill her. I know that. I've seen enough death since I started in Peoria to know that that blame lies solely on my father's shoulders – even if no one can prove it. And I know that he didn't mean to kill her. But it doesn't change things. It doesn't change that if she hadn't come running into the room to help me, she might still be around. If I hadn't needed to be punished…if I had been stronger…if I had just been quieter…if I hadn't needed her…if…if…" Tony was beginning to sound frantic.

"If she didn't love you? You can't change things like that, Tony. You said it yourself, you were nine years old. The only thing that is your fault is the fact that you were a good kid. It's not your fault that your father was a sadistic drunk and that you needed help. She wouldn't be the person you remember if she hadn't come to help you that day."

"I know that. But it doesn't change the fact that she's dead, and she's never coming back."

"No, no it doesn't." Gibbs didn't know what else he could say. He wasn't sure he could ever put a stop to the cycle that Tony's thoughts had him spinning on. There was a long pause before Tony spoke again, and the quiet plea was so choked with guilt and regret that it clenched the older man's heart.

"You…you don't really think…that it's my fault…do you, Gibbs?" The tone reminded him very much of his own daughter begging him to put everything right with the world when she had been small.

"No, Tony. I never did."

~*~

"You see, you little shit? You killed her. Took the only thing that you seemed to care about and ended her. She's dead because you were a worthless whelp and couldn't even learn your lesson. You see what you've done?"

Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight even as his father cuffed him painfully across the back for a fifth time with his belt. The beating meant nothing because Marie's hand was cold in his grip and Tony knew that no matter what, she would never just lay there and watch him being punished. But her eyes were still open and Tony was being beaten in front of her as if she wasn't there. He didn't even feel the blows landing until they began to land on top of one another.

"Take your damned shirt off."

When Tony's back was bare, the blows fell again and harder, until a knock at the door signaled his reprieve. By that time, there wasn't an inch of skin that wasn't bright red or deep purple, and the boy was almost certain that he wouldn't be able to move. Blood flowed sluggishly from some of the more abused skin, and even Tony's shallow breaths lit up his back with pain.

"Just a minute." His father called out.

Words ghosted in his ear as he was hauled into his father's arms and thrown into a closet. "Make a single noise and you'll join her."

The dark closed around him, and Tony wrapped his arms around his knees to try and comfort himself. The tears stopped and ragged breaths evened out as he stared straight ahead and tried to make sense of what had happened. No one was coming to get him any time soon, he was pretty sure of that, and even as he closed in on himself, Tony could hear the sounds of a body being dragged and plans being made to avoid suspicion. He had never been more sure of his career choice…the Navy was long forgotten now.

~*~

When all was finally quiet in the room, Tony climbed shakily to his feet and searched for the doorknob. He had fallen asleep sometime earlier and only woke when he shifted against the wall and opened up fresh scabs.

The door opened silently and he peeked out, hoping and praying that no one would be there to notice him. The sight of the pristine room had him wondering if it had all been a horrible nightmare, but one step had him tumbling to the ground as the blisters on his feet made themselves known once again. Tony crawled over to the table where Marie had fallen and knelt in the same spot, not knowing what else to do. His hand ran repeatedly over the newly-cleaned rug and up to hesitantly touch the table. He repeated the motions over and over until his whole world revolved on the movement of his fingers. The lost little boy stayed there with tears pouring down his cheeks until his mother's screeches filled the room the next morning.

~*~

Tony didn't know what had happened, but could remember his mother shouting and three different people coming to her aid. The security guard and gardener had taken one look at the boy and ushered the frantic woman out of the room as the cook scooped him up gently and ferried him to the canopy bed.

"Get cleaned up and go tell your mother that you're all right."

Concise instructions from the stern man were easily followed, and Tony was able to run on autopilot until the smell of his shampoo reminded him of Marie's last words to him. I'll wait for you just outside the door, Tony. I'll look after you when he's through. She'd never be around to look after him again. Never be around to soothe his wounds or chase away the nightmares. He was all alone now.

~*~

Tony never made it down to tell his mother that he was all right, partially because Vinnie had always told him not to lie, and partially because he couldn't stand to do anything that would warrant another lesson from his father so soon after the last one. He simply climbed painfully into his bunk bed and curled around his teddy bear. The blankets scratched at his feet, and the burns radiated heat and bright pain, but Tony didn't know what to do about it other than soak them in cold water, and he had already done that. He feared having to put shoes on anytime in the near future, and tuned out the thought as he let even more tears soak his pillow. God forbid his father should find him like this. The boy drifted off to sleep again, hoping that he would wake up back in Marie's rooms with her doting on him and that he would be eight years old again. He didn't very much like being nine.

~*~

At some point, Tony's father must have realized what he had done to his son and called for the doctor to take a look at him. The elderly man had gently washed the boy's feet and thrown disparaging glances over his shoulder at the shut door.

"I don't suppose there's anyone who will remember to do this for you, young man?" The little doctor had been trying in vain to get Tony to talk to him since he'd awoken him and began his examination. A subtle shake of the head was his only response before a frightened look crossed his features.

"Easy, Anthony. I didn't think so. What I need you to do then is layer this cream all over your feet when you get up and then before you go to bed. But I need you to be a patient boy and wait for it to evaporate before you go walking around or putting your socks and shoes on, okay?"

Again, a nod was the only response he got.

"You won't forget?"

A silent 'no'.

The doctor sighed and wished, and not for the last time, that he had more pull and could do more to get the boy some help. The DiNozzo name held far too much reach and doing more than he already was to help Tony would only turn out worse for him and for the boy. All he could do was treat the injuries as they came around.

"Good boy. Go back to sleep, Anthony. You were very brave."

~*~

Tony dressed himself in his best suit and tie while trying to keep the tears from running down his face. He would be brave today. He wouldn't do anything to dishonor his family or the memory of the only person who had shown she truly cared since Vinnie had died. He had already been read the riot act by his father. The memory of throwing himself at the man's feet and begging to be allowed to attend the funeral today would not leave him soon, but it had been worth it. The least he could do for Marie was to be there to respect her one last time. To say thank you.

Tony ran a comb through his hair as his mother entered the bathroom and placed her hands on his trembling shoulders. He didn't dare to look up in the mirror to meet her eyes, afraid that doing the slightest thing wrong would result in being locked in a closet as his father had threatened. The fingers that tightened on his collarbones confused him; it had been too long since the woman had shown anything other than scorn for her youngest child.

"You'll make her proud today, if no one else."

And then she was gone, and Tony didn't know what to do other than scrub the tears from his face. Hope was far too precious a commodity now that Marie was gone, and he just didn't know what else to do.

~*~

The small ceremony was a blur to Tony, who spent the entire service sitting by himself in the last pew. His parents were somewhere near the front, playing the part of dutiful employers. It was not the first time he had felt the separation, and it was sure not to be the last. He wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to do, and had to focus on the small group of people in front of him in order to follow along. His father had told him in straightforward terms that tears were not allowed, and the boy had long since tasted blood as he tried to obey. It didn't matter that Marie would have told him that it was all right to cry, would have held him close to her side and let him sob into her hip while rubbing soothing circles on his back. That didn't matter because she was lying in the box at the front of the church. He only hoped that someday she could forgive him.

~*~

Tony stood at the gravesite and bowed his head when the priest spoke. He was too small to see past the more important people standing in front of him, and too lost to be his boisterous self and push to the front where he could have actually paid his respects. The small group crowded under a tent as the day had fittingly turned dark before letting loose with a heavy rainstorm that gave Tony the reprieve he was looking for. With no room for him under the shelter, the boy was subjected to the downpour soaking him through. He stared straight down at his mud-covered loafers as the salty tears mixed with raindrops and fell unnoticed.

There was a pause in the ceremony as people began to move forward to pay their last respects when Tony heard the hushed conversation from two women standing in front of him.

"Did you hear what happened to her?"

"I heard. It was horrible. Marie was up on a ladder cleaning the canopy on that boy Anthony's bed when he ran into the room and bumped the ladder. She fell and hit her head on his toy chest, and I heard that he just went on playing with his toys like nothing had happened. You'd think he would've cared more about her and gone for help, but no. He just WATCHED her. Miserable little thing."

Tony's breath caught in his throat and he started to shake. He almost broke his silence to demand angrily that they take back the lies, but he realized it didn't matter how they thought she had died. The details didn't matter when the meaning was true. Marie had been helping him – cleaning or trying to save him didn't matter. He had knocked her over – off a ladder or through his father's rage didn't make a difference. But the biggest part of the story, the one that stole his breath and hurt him more deeply than any of his father's lessons was the bare truth, no matter how the tale was spun. He didn't do anything but stare. Didn't do anything to try and save her after all of the things she had done for him. When it really mattered and she needed him to be strong, he couldn't even do that. He hadn't done anything except kneel at her side and hold her hand. Even now, all he could do was cry like a baby; he couldn't even be strong after the fact. His father had been right to take the belt to his back. He deserved so much worse than that.

~*~

Tony would never be sure of how long he had been staring at the ground, letting the rain hide his weakness even as the shivers intensified. He thought about Marie and what she would say if she saw him this soaked. He remembered the time that he had gone exploring in the woods at the summer house and chased a frog until he was knee deep in muck. He knew that going back to the house in that state would not go over well and so he had rolled around in the creek until his jeans were an acceptable state of clean. By the time he had gotten back to the house, dinner had already been served and he was not only hungry, he was cold. Marie had drawn him a hot bath and 'tutted' her way through a scolding before finding him dinner. She would never be able to do that again.

As the people in front of him began to disperse to their cars, Tony was finally given enough room to squeeze his way through the tent and back out into the rain. He had his left hand clutched in his jacket pocket, and wanted one chance to say goodbye. As he stepped past the row of chairs set up for family, he was shocked at how cold the rain had become after just a moment of refuge under the canvas. On a mission now, Tony took one more step forward when a strong grip halted him in his tracks. He would know the pain of those fingers anywhere.

"And where the Hell do you think you're going? Don't you think you've done enough damage already?" The words were hissed into his ear as he was wrenched around by his father. Clearly no one else was meant to hear this conversation.

Tony bowed his head even further as if he could appease his father with his submission. Fat rain drops pooled at the end of his bangs and plastered the short hair to his head before dripping off to the ground. Haunted green eyes locked on expensive Italian shoes before his chin was firmly levered up and his eyes caught his father's cold gaze.

"I…I had something to leave with Marie. So she'd remember me." Tony whispered his plan as if his quiet nature could somehow soften his father's heart.

"What makes you think that she wants to remember her killer, Anthony? Her murderer?" The tone was soft and deceptively gentle, cutting even further into the boy than if there had been anger there. As an adult, he would finally pinpoint it for what it was - a deliberate ploy to hurt, to cement in Tony's mind the guilt his father felt he should feel. It was by far the most despicable thing Tony's father had done to date.

Tony began to shake as his mind solidified his fears and feelings of shame as he once again saw the death stare that had been his last glimpse of Marie. Surely she wouldn't blame him for what his father had made him do? She had always been on his side and…and he had done nothing to help her. Maybe his father was right. Maybe it really was his fault.

The little boy didn't answer his father as he turned to make his way back to the car, but was stopped again, this time by his mother's hand. He had missed the heated glare between the two.

"Give it to me, Anthony."

Tony nodded and handed over the Bear Cub pin that he had wanted to place on the coffin. It seemed only fitting that his mother took it now. He was surprised to see her step out from under her husband's protective arm and lay the pin on the coffin. When she was sober, Tony's mother could occasionally remember how happy Vinnie had been when playing with Tony, could remember the look on the older boy's face when he learned he was going to be a big brother. She would not insult her Vincent's memory by denying Tony his wish.

As he followed his parents back to the car, Tony took one last look as the coffin lay under the deluge. The metal of his pin contrasted the color of Marie's final resting place.

~*~

The catered affair that took place to commemorate Marie took place in the same room that she had died in. The study had been transformed to accommodate the gathering and since very few people knew the truth of the matter, there was nothing seemingly out of place about it. Even as an adult, Tony would never be sure if it was his father's hubris that caused the choice or if the man really was trying to emotionally scar his young son. Nevertheless, it grated on the boy and made him feel that much worse. He could still see the bloodstain where the coffee table should be, could still feel Marie's hand go limp as the life flew out of her eyes. Tony wanted nothing more than to be hidden away as if he didn't exist, something his father had been insisting upon more and more as he grew.

"Anthony, there you are. I've been looking all over for you." The words were loud enough to be heard by the group of women chatting to his right, and he knew better than to believe that his father had been worried. If the man was looking for him, even at his young age, Tony realized that he had something in mind. And it would most likely not be pleasant for the boy.

The hands on his shoulders steered him around the room towards where a devastated young woman was sitting. Tony recognized her from pictures he had seen in Marie's rooms.

"You're going to go up to her and apologize for killing her mother; do you understand me, Anthony?"

Tony's eyes widened and he looked for a quick way out. He would take a beating over having to do that.

"Do you understand me, Anthony? I won't ask you again." The words sent a chill down his spine and he knew, in no uncertain terms, exactly what went unsaid.

"Yes, sir." His voice cracked from days of silence.

He approached the young woman slowly, willing himself to disappear into the carpet or to wake up from the nightmare he was caught in.

"Miss Tiffany?" Red-rimmed eyes rose to meet his and recognition swirled slowly.

"You're Tony?"

"Yes, ma'am. I…uhh…I wanted to…" he trailed off, not knowing how to proceed. His father's belt was looking more and more appealing.

"Yes?"

Tony took a deep breath and spit out the words as fast as he could manage them. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for your mother dying. I didn't mean it, I promise."

Grief gave way to anger quickly and it was reflected in the eyes that now bore holes through him. "You killed my mother. It's your fault she's dead."

Hearing the words come from someone's mouth who had never met him before and had no reason to lie, Tony burst into sobs.

"I know." Without really knowing what he was doing, Tony turned and sprinted from the room. It took the staff two days to find him hidden in Marie's closet.

~~**~~

So you can all thank** Kylen** who agreed with me that a part in the next chapter wasn't working out well and has pretty much insured that chapter 8 has now become two parts. So there will now be 11 chapters instead of 10. I'm sure you're all devastated by this. That being said, chapter 8 may end up a little bit late if I run into trouble - or yet another story idea, thanks Kylen - but it will be coming out ASAP.

**To CJ**, who left an anonymous review so I couldn't respond off-site and probably won't see this anyway: I'm sorry you feel the way you do, and your opinions are your own as to the type of story that you read. The fact that you got all the way to chapter 6 leads me to believe that there were some redeeming qualities to my story, and the point of this was always to spend more time on Tony's youth than in the interactions between Gibbs and adult Tony. As I said in the first chapter, this was written as more of a character study into his past and the basement conversations are more to give everyone a break from Tony's father's antics and poor decisions than to be the main point of the story. It's not meant to be balanced between the two settings, and I'm sorry if I led you to believe that it would be. If I had cut out half of the last chapter to deal with Gibbs and Tony – which I started this chapter off with – I would have lost most of the characterization of how Tony got to be who he is now – his first taste of business life, the fact that his whole childhood wasn't one big ball of pain, and finally the scene in the study. If the first few chapters didn't give you the idea that the flashbacks weren't just to explain the Gibbs – Tony scenes, then I'm afraid there's nothing else I can do for you there. There are plenty of other stories on the site that deal solely in interactions between Gibbs and Tony, so I'd suggest that you head off to find them as the last four chapters in this story are pretty much going to be more of the same.

* * *


	8. No More Tears

**_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Nothing too graphic here on the part of abuse, Tony's father has...other things on his mind._**

**_Also - The rest of this story has been undergoing a fairly major rewrite for the better. What was originally 10 chapters is now most likely going to be 13, so next week I'm going to post an unrelated one-shot that I wrote as a tag to Hiatus, part I. And then depending on how far ahead of myself I've gotten, I'll either post chapter 9 a couple days late or resume posting the next week - it's going to depend. So if there's a delay, that's why._**

* * *

**Chapter 8 – No More Tears**

_JEANNE: Where did you learn to climb?_

_TONY: There was this big, old pine tree in my backyard. It was about three times higher than we are now and I used to climb it all the way to the tippity-top. One day, I refused to come down, and my mom called the Fire Department.  
_~ Iceman 4x18

* * *

The smell of sawdust that always saturated the air in Gibbs' basement settled Tony's emotions more than words ever could have and overrode the lingering smells of Marie's room that had accompanied his latest set of memories.

He wasn't sure what had drawn him to the workbench, but the familiarity of sitting there with a mug in his hands and watching his boss working on his boat gave him a sense of ease that he could never quite recreate anywhere outside of the basement. He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the sounds and smells that cocooned him were almost as good as that raggedy old teddy bear had been when he was small. If anyone had asked, Tony couldn't have told them how long he'd been caught up in his own thoughts, completely oblivious to the outside world. Gibbs had let him be – experience had taught them both that stubbornness was a trait that they both shared.

"I don't know if she meant it. I was sure at the time that she blamed me – I blamed myself. The party line was never questioned and God knows my father had beaten it into me enough in the days before the funeral. But it almost sounded like she was asking me instead of telling me, ya know?"

Gibbs nodded noncommittally and continued working the wood. There was nothing for him to do about it this late at night and telling DiNozzo that it wasn't his fault was akin to beating a dead horse. Not that he hadn't tried repeatedly and unsuccessfully in the past – it was a point of contention that Gibbs couldn't seem to get past. The lead agent knew the younger man didn't want to hear it, couldn't stomach the idea that someone else could be more forgiving of his own perceived weaknesses than Tony, himself, was.

"She works for him now. He paid for her to finish her education and get her MBA. So I guess he thought that settled it."

Gibbs scoffed at that.

"When my mother realized what he had made me do, she was furious. I'd never heard her raise her voice to him once – and especially not about me. It was the only thing that kept me there, even when I'd already packed my backpack and was planning on running off. She'd been drunk at the time, but when they brought me back in after I was found, she lit into him."

"But his…_lessons_? Those were all right in her book?" Lesser men had crumbled under _that_ stare and spilled all of their secrets in interrogation. When the older man realized he was pinning DiNozzo with it, he had to fight to bring it under control. The man's parents weren't standing there; it wouldn't do to make Tony think Gibbs was angry at him.

"I don't know. She was so far out of it most of the time, and avoiding me the rest. She may not have known. He was real adamant about me keeping quiet. Or maybe she couldn't…_wouldn't _cross him over that. Or maybe she did and I just never heard it before that. It's not like I can ask her." The clipped laugh covered emotions that most would have missed.

Tony continued before Gibbs could comment. "Every so often you'd catch a glimpse of who she was before…well, you know. It was confusing as Hell, but one minute she'd be talking to pictures of Vinnie like he was still there or raving about how she wished that he was there instead of me, and then the next she'd be absolutely horrified that I'd skinned my knees at school or missed my piano lessons because my father hated them. She cared. But she was sick and I just don't think he could manage to hate me and love her all at the same time and still see what was happening to her. He couldn't see that he might lose her."

~*~

Tony had long since stopped trying to figure out his parents' moods. It just wasn't worth it – the few times he was privy to their conversations through hand-covered ears did nothing but increase his already colorful vocabulary. His father could be grinning one minute, lavishly spoiling his wife and dropping sweet kisses on her neck to please her, and at the drop of a hat could be swearing up a storm in Italian and English and beating Tony to a carefully concealed pulp.

There were warning signs, of course, and the boy was starting to recognize the sound of slammed doors and the slight smell of scotch before cocktail hour anywhere in the house. Either of these were good indicators that he should be hidden away anywhere his father wouldn't look for him. The closet in his bedroom or under that canopy bed were excellent places, dark and tight and safe. Vinnie's room or the kitchen, light and airy places were definitely out.

When things got really bad and he could hear his father arguing with someone from his company, Tony had learned that not even the sanctity of his rarely-used room was safe. These were times when being outdoors or hidden in the staff's quarters were some of his only safe havens. Even then, it was a good bet that he'd be black and blue by the end of the night.

~*~

Tony was already hiding in his closet when the first sounds of raised voices were caught by his sensitive ears. He tried to make out where his father was yelling from, figuring out which direction he needed to head in order to get out of the man's warpath. If he was in his office, then he was most likely on the phone and the way to the grove of trees at the back of the property was his best bet. But if he was in the study, then Tony's best chance was to take the back way down to the kitchen and out the service entrance to Marie's old room. The new woman who lived there didn't exactly like Tony, but she wouldn't deny his presence either as long as he was quiet and kept out of the way.

It only took a few minutes for the name of his father's CFO to enter the one-sided conversation. Tony had met the man one Saturday and had actually been occupied for almost the whole day talking with him. It was one of the few happy memories he had of the office. If his father was yelling at him, then surely it was a business call and the safest place would be the trees.

He crept out of the closet and carefully opened the door to the long corridor. All he had to do was go left, past the study and down the stairs. If he made it that far, he'd be home free. If he made it that far all he had to worry about was tearing his play pants as he climbed the old pine. He thought he could see forever around him from the very top and loved to lose himself in the highest boughs. It was safe there and the world looked so vast and serene and pain-free. It didn't matter that he knew there were bad things out there just like in the walls of his home. It just mattered that he couldn't see it and feel it from where he'd sit in the slightly swaying branches. He could be free there.

Of course, that required him getting down those stairs and out the door. It didn't require the door to the study opening only seconds after he'd passed it and one very chagrined looking CFO stepping out with his employer still dogging his heels. From the looks of things, the man would be cleaning out his office come the morning.

Tony heard the door opening behind him and stopped in his tracks to turn around and stare. The man noticed him immediately and called out a greeting. It was all Tony needed to send him scurrying down the hall and making a beeline for the stairs. Nevertheless, he caught the conversation that was sparked from his name being called.

"My son is out there, Thomas? Send him in, will you?"

His name was called out again, but Tony took a chance in his adrenaline-fueled flight and kept running. Maybe the man would believe…

"I think he was too far away to hear me, Sir."

Tony let out a choked breath as his ploy worked and leapt down the stairs two at a time. He had to get out of sight and fast.

"Anthony? Anthony, where are you going, my boy?"

Tony turned a shocked gaze onto his mother before turning the door handle and bolting from the house.

"Out to play, Mother," he called back as he sprinted across the lawn. He was almost safe.

If only his mother had turned back to appraising the new artwork that had been purchased for her, Tony would have gotten away unscathed. He heard her calling after him as she followed after him, but the sound of his father's heavy footsteps clambering down the stairs sent him scurrying even faster to his destination. He was halfway up the trunk and into the branches before his mother reached the bottom.

"Anthony. Anthony! Get down from there! You'll be hurt. Come down at once."

He could feel the branches tearing at his cheeks and catching the loose clothing as he climbed. Tony had no time to carefully navigate his way to the top this time, no time to protect his skin and his jeans from the sharp bark as he scaled the branches. His father was coming for him and surely he was in for it this time. The man would never let him get away with working his mother up like this.

~*~

Tony wasn't sure how long he'd been staring off to the horizon and listening to his mother pleading with him to come down. He was thankful that he couldn't hear his father and wondered if the man had simply abandoned the chase for the more reliable scotch inside. He already believed his son was worthless; surely his alcohol had more allure to it than a ten-year old he wished was buried in the ground instead of his oldest son. Tears pricked at the boy's eyes as he recalled that painful lesson.

He was startled from his thoughts by a much kinder, much louder voice near his ear. Tony almost fell from the branch he was sitting on when he noticed the shiny helmet of the fireman to his right.

"Hey there, Son. You want to come on down from there?"

Tony looked at the man for a minute as he regained his balance and shook his head with a definite 'no'.

"Come on now. It's not safe up here. You're already hurt, Anthony. Let's get you to climb on down with me and we'll get you cleaned up." The fireman's tone was sincere, but Tony knew he couldn't understand. It _was_ safe up here. Safer than anywhere else on the grounds and definitely safer than going down where he could now hear his father's voice consoling his mother – acting every bit the concerned parent that he hadn't been in years.

The boy scrubbed at his cheek where he could feel the blood trickling down one of the slight lacerations that marred his skin. Again, he shook his head 'no' and looked pleadingly at the man next to him. Couldn't he just leave him be?

The look of stark terror that only a few years of practice couldn't yet hide in his expression must have struck a chord with the firefighter because his next words were unbelievably soft and concerned.

"Are you all right here, Tony? Do you need help?"

_Never tell. Must never tell, Anthony. You'll be taken away and believe me it's only worse if someone has to be paid to take you in. You wouldn't want someone to do this to you without a reason, would you? That's what will happen if you ever let anyone know about our lessons._

Tony sighed and spoke with an air of obvious defeat. "No, sir. I'm fine. I can even climb down by myself."

The man on the ladder flashed him a grin that would eventually rival the adult Tony DiNozzo's. "You'd deny me my chance to play the hero?"

~*~

As he was set back onto the ground and out of the warm embrace of the fireman, Tony gulped and dropped his gaze to the long grass at his feet. He knew he was in for it now.

The hug and kiss to the cheek from his mother and the warm way his father scooped him up in his arms and held him close didn't fool the boy, but the act was bought by the emergency workers. With a brief lecture about keeping his feet firmly and safely on the ground, the men packed up and left. When they were out of sight, the charade dropped and Tony was thrown to the ground. Scuffed knees and skinned palms wouldn't be the worst of his hurts once his father was done with him.

~*~

Tony was so engrossed in the _Hardy Boys_ mystery he had borrowed from the school library that he could almost forget about his latest lesson. If he concentrated hard enough, he could erase how badly his back hurt and how vividly he could still feel and hear every time the belt had fallen for his stunt with the tree earlier that week. He didn't hear the door to his bedroom open and didn't look up until his mother was almost on top of him. When her shadow finally crossed the pages, Tony barely had time to recognize her presence before the contents of his mother's lunch stained his book and pants. Frightened, the boy jumped to his feet and his eyes darted around to make sure his father was nowhere in the vicinity.

The wild look in his mother's eyes would haunt him for years to come. It had been a long time since she'd ever spent time with him without influential members of the board nearby. On the rare occasion that she did, it usually meant trouble. As the two stared at each other, Tony noticed how pale her skin was and how one arm was clutched across her stomach. His sight caught on just how bright red her lips looked against the ashen hue that graced the rest of her. Even with her expensive lipstick and make-up, they'd never looked that bright.

"Anthony, Baby. Something's wrong." The slur in her words and the half-empty bottle in her hand made him gulp even as he moved to help her across to the bathroom.

The stink of alcohol and half-digested food made the boy gag, but his mother never came to him for help, and it confused him enough to act on instinct rather than conscious thought. Spurring his need to get her into the small bathroom was the fear that his father could walk in at any time. It wasn't like the man needed an excuse to punish him, and Tony was pretty sure the sight of his mother sick would be far more than enough.

As his mother continued to gag into the toilet, Tony pulled off his stained shirt and tossed it into the bathtub behind him. He looked down at his hands when he registered that they, too, were covered in vomit. The sight of bright-red blood mixed with food and bile had him bent over and emptying his own stomach into the bathtub. Dimly, he knew that blood anywhere outside of his mother's body was far from normal. Tears pricked at his eyes as the boy scrubbed his palms onto his khakis. This was more than just the few times where he'd walked in on his mother after too many mint juleps. He'd seen her sick after she drank down his sea monkeys, and in the mornings after his father's larger dinner parties. Something was radically wrong.

Tony was transfixed on the sight of his mother looking so vulnerable and had no idea how long he stood, just staring, before his mother slumped to her side and slid bonelessly to the ground. Sweat glistened in the dim lighting and wisps of dull hair plastered to her forehead. Both of her arms were now wrapped around her stomach and tremors were wracking her entire frame. Quiet whimpering sounds ghosted across his ears. Sounds that Tony never would have associated with the loud and cheerful voice he remembered from happier times. Even the tone of voice she used after enough alcohol was a far cry from the noise he heard now.

Images of Marie's eyes darkening as her life fled assaulted Tony's vision and fear seized his chest. He hadn't done anything to help her when she so obviously needed it, and look where that had gotten them both. He had been too weak to do anything about it and he lost her. The little boy clenched his fists and pushed back the near-crippling dread that was racing through his veins. He couldn't do anything to help Marie now, but if there was anything he could do to help his mother – he would show them all he wasn't weak.

"It's all right, Mother. You'll be all right now. We'll just get you cleaned up and everything will be fine." Tony snagged the lace handkerchief out of her pocket and used it to clean off the blood. A quick run under the faucet cleaned off the worst of the stains and allowed the boy to continue mopping away the sweat and tears.

His own tears were unimportant as they coursed down his face. Not only was Tony at a loss as to what was going on with his mother, it seemed that every instance where Marie had cared for him was trying to make itself known in his memories. The repeated motions that kept his mother's face clean gave him enough to focus on, and allowed him to push Marie out of his thoughts. He had to do _something_ to help his mother.

"It'll be okay now, Mother. You'll see. You'll feel better soon and then…then…" but Tony didn't know what 'and then' would bring. He didn't know what would happen after his mother got better. It had been a long time since anything was right in his little family – not since Vinnie had gone against their father's wishes. There was nothing Tony wanted more than to have his big brother come and tell him what to do. To have Vinnie come and tell him that it was all a nightmare and that everything would be better in the morning.

Tony jumped when he saw his mother's eyes close and everything seemed to go limp. Her skin color was the same as Marie's had been, and the absolute stillness that surrounded her had him shaking her as violently as he could manage.

"Mother? Mother!" Tony's cries grew frantic as she didn't answer. There was nothing else he could do. He had failed again.

"Mommy?" Tony shuddered as the quiet timbre of his voice startled even him. He was greeted with enough of a glimpse of green eyes as her hand brushed against his cheek. The skin on her palm was cold and she had no strength left to offer more than that one final touch.

"Anthony, Baby. I'm sorry." Tony buried his face against his mother's shoulder and listened to the wheezing breaths in her chest.

When the only sound that grated on Tony's ears was his own panting breaths, fear for what he couldn't yet understand overrode anything else.

"DADDY! DADDY, COME QUICK! HELP!" He hadn't made the mistake of being so informal with his father in years, but terror had crept into his veins and he was still only a child. All he wanted was for someone to come and fix his mother.

The pounding steps heralded his father's swift arrival, belt already in hand. Something in Tony's white face, tears pouring down his cheeks, stayed the man's hand as he had already raised it to belt his boy for his insolence. This wasn't the defiant child that was the bane of his existence; this wasn't the boy who looked so much like his pride and joy that it hurt. Tony hadn't looked this terrified since he was six years old and convinced that vampires lived in his canopy bed. Not even the worst of his lessons had ever elicited this stark a look from the boy. The man couldn't help the shot of dread at what could have caused this.

"What? What is it, Anthony?"

The boy started and ripped his gaze from the leather belt to his father's face as the choked words broke through his fear. He rubbed the back of his hand across his nose and the trail of blood it left behind went unnoticed by the ten-year old.

His father, on the other hand, was struck by emotions dredged up from somewhere beneath the constant haze of alcohol and the still-stifling grief that Vincent's death had caused. His first instincts to beat on the boy for interrupting him were lost as he took in the blood and gore congealing on his hands and the smears of red across the otherwise light-colored pants. He reached out and shook the boy by the arm. Hard.

"Anthony." That was a tone that Tony knew better than to ignore, no matter how frightened he was.

"It's Mother." Tony pointed to the bathroom and it was all the prompting the man needed to shove his boy out of the way.

Moments later his scream of pure anguish had Tony bolting for the safety of the closet.

~*~

Hours later, after the paramedics had come and gone and his father had ample time to down an entire bottle of Macallan18, the man remembered what had brought him to the place of his beloved wife's last stand.

"Anthony. I know you're in here. Come out, boy." The forced calm in his voice was betrayed by the same slur Tony had heard in his mother's voice and only served to convince him that he most assuredly did _not _want to leave the closet.

He almost let out a screech when the bright light assaulted his eyes as his father wrenched open the door. A quick jolt and Tony found himself laying facedown on the soft carpet as his father beat his grief out with a belt and curses.

"DiNozzo men do not cry, boy. Do you hear me? DiNozzo's do not cry." Tony wasn't dumb enough to comment on the tears flowing down the man's face.

The beating stopped almost as quickly as it began and Tony was dragged to his feet. His shoulders shook as he stuffed down his own tears and jumped as his mother's vomit-stained handkerchief was rubbed in his face. It was the same one she had often held over her nose in disgust at Tony's presence.

"You just keep managing to destroy all of the women in your life, don't you? You killed Marie and now you've killed your mother. When are you going to stop leeching all the good out of my life?"

~*~

When Tony finally dared to move and let the tears fall, he reached down to the ground and picked up the lace fabric. Carefully the boy washed out the stains and when it had dried he folded it almost reverently. Checking to make sure no one could see what he was doing, the screws were removed from his record player. Beneath the turntable lay a green and silver ribbon supporting a bronze medal, his Bear Cub neckerchief, a number of Tony's prized _Matchbox_ cars, and the first _Hardy Boys_ mystery that Marie had given him. The boy carefully fingered Vinnie's Commendation medal before wrapping it in his mother's handkerchief.

~~**~~


	9. Breaking Through

**_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past._**

For those of you waiting for a whole chapter's worth of Gibbs and DiNozzo, this is it. There is a definite **TISSUE WARNING** in effect for this chapter.

You can blame this one on Kylen. I most definitely had no plans to ever write this, and especially not in this story, so it's all thanks to her that it came out and fit into the story line.

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Breaking Through**

_ABBY: Gibbs is always nice._

_TONY: To you and Ducky, maybe. Me, he growls at and smacks on the head._

_ABBY: Which makes you feel wanted._

_TONY: Yeah.  
_~ 3x01 – Kill Ari (1)

* * *

DiNozzo wiped the back of his hand across his mouth in a way that almost exactly mirrored the day his mother died. The memory was still so fresh that he almost expected to feel the trail of blood again. He didn't even have to try to picture how pale she had been, how much blood there had been everywhere. That memory was playing in full Technicolor glory on loop in his head. He couldn't break free of the images. Tony could still remember when he'd had to return the book to the library – stained with his mother's blood and bile. His father's idea, and yet more punishment for being weak. Everyone at the school had known by then, and the librarians were sympathetic; but he could see the disgust in their eyes. They knew it was his fault. They knew that he should have been stronger. The ten-year old didn't need to be reminded of that.

He had tried; God, had he ever tried. Tony had been determined that his mother wasn't going to die. Not like Marie had. Not like Vinnie had. Not because of him. So he'd prayed and he'd helped and he'd called for his father. None of it did any good. Even with everything he had tried to do, none of it had _mattered_. Why didn't he call for his father earlier? Why did he need to do it by himself? Could he have stopped it? Would any of it have made a difference in the end? Would one of his father's lessons really have been that steep a price to pay if he could have saved his mother?

He should have yelled for the man the second his mother had walked into the room – he knew something was wrong. But he'd been so weak and selfish that he'd put his own fear of being punished over his mother's life. And because of his self-centeredness, she'd died and his father had lost everything in his life that he loved. There wasn't a high enough number of stripes on his back that could pay for what Tony had cost his father that day.

Tony hadn't been aware of the fact that he was now pacing the length of the basement frantically. He didn't know when he had jumped off the work bench and startled his boss. He couldn't feel Gibbs staring him down as he muttered to himself. Couldn't see anything other than the bright-red blood on his hands. Couldn't hear his breathing catching in his chest as he tried to break free of the memory.

He also couldn't see the damage Gibbs was doing to the plank of wood he'd been sanding since the younger man had practically leapt to his feet. If he had been aware of what was going on around him, the younger man would have been instantly on alert. He had watched the older man work in this basement long enough to know that under normal circumstances, even when distracted, Gibbs would never sand against the grain – especially not in the same spot for _that_ long. But the former Gunny wasn't paying any attention to the strut he was working on. He didn't care in the slightest that he was going to have to replace the plank of wood in its entirety because of the weakness he was creating.

Gibbs was watching Tony with rapt attention. His agent was more out of control – and out of touch – than he had ever been in the two plus years they'd worked together. There was a wild look in his eyes that betrayed feelings of guilt and sheer panic. Gibbs wanted, more than anything at that moment, to wipe the look off Tony's face. He was done with letting Tony lead this dance. It was getting to be too much for the younger man, and Gibbs needed to stop this before sheer exhaustion claimed him – hell, claimed them both. But every time the Marine had tried to move closer to where DiNozzo was pacing, Tony had jumped like he'd been burned – _or whipped_ – Gibbs thought darkly. Despite the fact that Tony clearly needed to work through this, it was going past the point of helping now. He had to get through to the young man somehow. The kid needed a break.

"Tony." The single word was clipped and the underlying tension signified the order to cease and desist.

It was ignored.

Or rather, Gibbs was pretty sure, it hadn't even registered in DiNozzo's brain that anyone outside of 1982 had spoken. He tried again.

"DiNozzo." That tone brokered no argument and was to be followed no matter what the circumstances. It was the tone that he used in the field only when the team was under fire. He taught all his team members that to ignore an order of that magnitude was not only tantamount to suicide; it was a quick trip to a reassignment to the research department. He knew that DiNozzo wouldn't risk ignoring an order when it was given in _that_ tone.

Tony didn't even break his stride. Didn't even blink at the tone. It was like he wasn't even there.

Now Gibbs was starting to get worried. And if there was one thing that even _he_ knew he didn't do well, it was worry.

Fear was another item on that list of things to resolutely ignore until they went away. And that emotion was starting to creep up on him as well. It was taking hold of his gut and refusing to let go. How the _hell_ was he going to fix this if DiNozzo couldn't – or wouldn't – hear him? Gibbs took extreme pride in the fact that he trained his 'probies' well. It didn't matter who it was or what the situation had been, he'd never had an agent ignore his orders when he was _that_ insistent.

It was when he finally could make out what Tony was saying that the last of the trifecta made itself known. Concern on top of worry on top of fear. Those three were to be avoided at all cost and covered with anger.

Because if there was one emotion Leroy Jethro Gibbs excelled at, it was anger.

"All _my_ fault. They were _all _my fault. Father wouldn't have had to split his time between me and Vincent, and Vinnie wouldn't have gone to the Navy. Marie wouldn't have had to save me. Mother…all my fault. All of them. I could have saved Mother. Should have saved her. Should have called Father. All my fault."

The words were mumbled and almost incoherent, but Gibbs had spent the last two years deciphering DiNozzo-speak. Drunk-Tony and hurt-Tony and sick-Tony all had their own version of slurred and rushed together words that had at one point driven Gibbs' patience up the wall. Now, however, the slightly hitched words and the way he was stumbling over letters and syllables was old hat. It was the tone that finally made Gibbs move. He'd just have to find some way to get into Tony's head.

Gibbs gave up trying to give Tony his space. It was all well and good up to a point, but the older man's calm indifference could only last to a point. He ignored the way Tony jumped like a kicked puppy at the drop of the sander and the way that the young man froze dead in his tracks as his boss crossed the room. The father in Gibbs blanched at the way Tony's eyes clenched shut as he prepared for a blow. And if that wasn't enough to make Gibbs see red, the whimper that graced DiNozzo's lips sure as hell was. He almost backed down, but enough was enough and anger wasn't nearly enough to keep the concern from overriding his senses.

Before either man knew exactly what was happening, Gibbs had him by the lapels of his already wrinkled and unbuttoned dress shirt and had backed Tony into the wall behind him. Tools clattered to the floor as every emotion that had coursed through the older man's veins finally bubbled over.

"DiNOZZO!"

Whether it was the tone of voice or the impact with the concrete behind him, Gibbs would never know. He did have his suspicions that the brief sensation of pain may have been enough to finally ground Tony, and damned if he didn't feel guilty about that.

"Y…yeah, Boss?" Tony sounded so lost and almost petrified that it was enough to drop Gibbs' tone down several notches.

But not to get rid of the determined tinge to his words. "Jesus Christ, DiNozzo. You damn near gave me a heart attack. You want to tell me what the Hell was going on?"

"Boss...I…" The look on Tony's face as he grasped at straws told Gibbs the young man had no idea of what he'd just been through. That Tony wasn't aware of anything that had happened since he'd lapsed into the last memory.

"Or how about why the Hell you think you're to blame for any of their deaths?" He'd had enough of sitting back and letting Tony work this out for himself. It was becoming painfully clear that DiNozzo planned to hold on to each and every little thing in his life that he thought he deserved blame for.

If the way Tony's face blanched rapidly or the significant increase in trembling was any indication, the guilt he'd felt as a child was no less over two decades later. He just shook his head and tried to push Gibbs away from him.

Gibbs wouldn't have it. Instead, he tightened his grip on the expensive fabric and shook Tony hard enough to make his teeth snap together.

Tony stopped immediately and stood stock still. His eyes darted to the corners of the basement – anywhere but into his mentor's eyes. He couldn't let Gibbs see the weakness there. Couldn't take the look on his boss's face if it morphed into the disappointment he'd grown up with in his father's eyes. He'd meant to prove to Gibbs that hiring him out of Baltimore had been worth it. Tony was starting to like working at NCIS. He'd never thought this evening would lead to this.

"Well, DiNozzo? You got an answer for me?" The gruff tone cut through any defenses Tony tried to put up and was enough to force him to answer truthfully.

"Because it is. They are." Tony barely got the words out in a whisper. There was a note of defeat in his voice that made Gibbs see red and picture all the ways he could maim and mutilate a man. It would still be too good a fate for Tony's father.

"Anthony," he forced himself to try and lower his voice and convey gentle support. The way he had once upon a time with Kelly. "Nothing that happened was your fault. None of it."

"But it was." It was Tony's turn to be angry now. "Every last one of them died because of _me_. Because I was too little or too weak. Because I was alive. They all died because I wasn't strong enough to stop them. They all left me."

His voice was shaking now to match the trembling strain in his muscles. Gibbs knew it wouldn't be long before he broke down entirely, but the Marine had never managed to pull this much from Tony at one time. He'd be damned if he was going to quit now. Now that they were finally getting to the heart of the matter. He'd just have to pick up the pieces later.

"Vinnie was always watching out for me. He…"

"Tony, your brother died in a training accident. In the Navy. In another state. How on earth could your father make you believe that it was your fault? How can you _still_ believe it?" Incredulity bled through and Gibbs had to bite his tongue to stop himself from beating some sense into the man in his grasp.

Tony balked. "He wouldn't have gone if…I should have…Father wanted me to…they never wanted me."

"That doesn't make it your fault. Vinnie made his own decisions. He would have gone anyway, even if you weren't around, Tony. He saw what your father was like, and…" Gibbs was cut off so abruptly that he was still speaking halfway through Tony's sentence.

"My father _never_ had to punish Vinnie like he did to me. Vincent was so much better of a son than I was. My father never would have had to be so cold if I wasn't around." Tony sniffled and clenched his teeth. Yet another thing to blame himself for.

"He tell you that? Your father blamed you for his bad decisions?" It was enough to turn Gibbs' stomach just thinking about how a man could teach his son to hold onto guilt like this. It was another thing entirely to think that the same man could lay his own poor choices and flawed character on the shoulders of a child. The man was sick, yes. He'd fallen victim to alcoholism, and grief on top of that was enough to break a man. But that was no excuse for what he'd done to his only remaining son.

Tony just nodded before turning his head away. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to be able to close the floodgates. The last thing he'd ever wanted was to let Gibbs – let _anyone_ – this far in. You didn't tell people these kinds of things. You didn't air your dirty laundry out where everyone could see. It would only make it that much more difficult to face him in the morning, that much more difficult when the time came to move on. He was far too sober to be able to ignore what he was doing.

But it was too late. He knew Gibbs was like a dog with a bone, and truth be told, Tony knew he needed to tell someone. It just made it easier that he wasn't actually able to stop himself from speaking.

"It _was_ my fault. All my fault. He never would have had to punish me if I could just learn my lessons. I'm weak, Boss. Never have been able to toughen up." Grim acceptance tinged his words and Tony closed his eyes as if to brace himself against Gibbs' agreement.

Gibbs scoffed at that. There were several attributes he'd tag onto Tony. Tenacious, guarded, sometimes annoying, always loyal. Strong. Determined. Even in the young man's worst moments, Gibbs had never thought of attributing 'weak' to his senior agent. DiNozzo simply didn't know how to _be_ weak. That was a talent left solely up to his father.

But he knew Tony would never believe him. Gibbs rarely gave out compliments and DiNozzo had never learned how to receive them.

Didn't mean they couldn't both try.

Because Gibbs would be damned if he was going to let him clam up before they'd resolved some things. Too many nights they'd sat here and tried to work things out. Too many nights Gibbs had listened to bits and pieces of how Tony had grown up – thinking everything that happened to him was normal. That all fathers treated their kids this way. The older man had tried to get through to Tony. Too many nights he'd thought he'd succeeded, only for DiNozzo to fall right back into the same old pitfalls and cycle of doubt. Two years wasn't nearly enough time to undo a lifetime of hurt.

The older man had always been of the opinion that reassurances and sympathy sounded empty when spoken out loud. No matter how sincere the person was trying to be, it always either fell on deaf ears or sounded so false that it made the listener feel worse. Platitudes didn't mean anything and telling someone that things were going to be okay didn't solve anything, either. Even if someone had been through the exact same experience, they still couldn't know everything that you were feeling. Not at the time, and certainly not after the fact. To pretend that you could know how someone had felt just cheapened the experience. It just made everything that was said seem so fake. Gibbs had had too much of that after Shannon and Kelly and he'd vowed never to do the same to anyone else.

He'd always contented himself on being sure that his team members knew where they stood with him through his actions. Even DiNozzo, with their unorthodox relationship and his uncanny ability to take things far too much to heart, had always seemed to understand what Gibbs didn't say. Maybe he had to rethink that. Maybe there was a way to get through to Tony without trying to tell the younger man that he understood. Because he couldn't. Not really. And truth be told, he didn't want to try. If it hurt this much just imagining what Tony went through, Gibbs couldn't picture putting a face to that much hate. His father had never laid a hand on him growing up and in turn he'd never even dreamed about punishing Kelly like that. So he couldn't – and wouldn't – ever tell Tony that he got it.

But he could tell the younger man what he'd learned over the past two years.

"Tony, listen to me. I don't care what your father told you. I don't care what you forced yourself to believe so that you could survive living with him. You are _nothing _like what your father wants you to think you are. I wouldn't have you on my team if you were. Hell, you wouldn't have made it past prep school if you were." He was careful not to actually say the word 'weak'. Knowing DiNozzo, it would be the only word he'd hear.

Gibbs was right; Tony couldn't take the compliment.

In the past few minutes, Gibbs had relaxed his grip somewhat as it was clear DiNozzo wasn't going anywhere. It was a mistake. Before he knew what was happening, Tony had shoved him off and was making a beeline for the stairs. The young man simply couldn't handle any more of this.

When Tony bolted, Gibbs didn't have time to think and reacted with years of military training to catch DiNozzo's arm and spin him around.

He supposed he should have seen the punch coming.

As it was, Gibbs had just enough time to turn his head and deflect most of the blow away from his nose. Tony's knuckles grazed his cheek and skittered off, leaving hot pain in their wake and the Marine reacted on instinct. His hand locked Tony's wrist into an arm-bar and he swept DiNozzo's feet out from under him before Gibbs could even contemplate what harm this might do.

DiNozzo never had a chance and was flat on his back before he'd really registered that he'd taken a swing at his boss. The quick change from vertical and pissed to horizontal and frightened brought back too many memories and had him cringing in anticipation of the unknown.

Gibbs swore.

He'd come too far to lose Tony now.

Mindful of the reaction that younger man might have to his equilibrium being thrown off again, Gibbs hauled Tony to his feet and waited him out. There was no way he could let go of DiNozzo without the man toppling over, but Gibbs wasn't about to manhandle him over to the boat to sit either.

It only took a minute for Tony to regain enough of his balance to stand on his own two feet. Gibbs still didn't let go. _Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me._

"It's my fault, Boss." Gibbs resisted the urge to smack his own head against a wall as the whisper-quiet words reached his ears.

He sighed, closed his eyes, and hung his head. "Tony. It's not…"

What the _Hell_ could he say to get through to him? Tony had always trusted him before, no matter what. It was part of the reason he had promoted Tony to senior agent when even Morrow had voiced doubts about elevating him. DiNozzo had never failed to fall in line and take his word on anything.

Gibbs wanted to smack his own head and curse as he wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

With new hope, he tried a different tactic. "If we were in a gunfight and I gave you an order, would you trust me no matter what it was?"

The answer wasn't unexpected.

"Yes, Boss." Tony responded as if by rote.

"If I told you that a man was guilty of a crime and that I had proof beyond a doubt, would you trust me, even if you didn't know what the evidence was?"

These were easy questions for Tony to answer. "You know I would, Boss."

Gibbs took heart as he heard the strength returning to Tony's voice.

"If I needed you to go undercover in a dangerous situation without your weapon and with little intel, would you trust that I would get you back out?"

"Any day of the week."

"No reservations?" Gibbs pressed.

"No, sir." He wasn't surprised. He'd earned Tony's trust despite having to fight against years of experience that no one was worth trusting.

He made his voice sound as matter of fact as he could, put all his eggs in one basket, and prayed to a God he had scorned for many years that this would work.

"So when I tell you that I have proof that your father was responsible for your brother's, your nanny's, and your mother's deaths…beyond any doubt. Will you trust me?"

He held his breath when Tony didn't answer. If Tony doubted him now, or refused to see past his own fears, the older man simply didn't know what else to try. And he didn't like the idea of giving up. Not on Tony. Not now, and not ever.

Gibbs knew the moment that it all hit home. He didn't notice that Tony never spoke aloud to confirm that he trusted Gibbs. It was written on Tony's face as plain as day. It was in the shudder that claimed Tony as he gave up the fight to hold on to his guilt. It was in the way his knees buckled and they both crashed towards the ground, instinctively trusting that Gibbs wouldn't let him be hurt. It was in the tears that coursed down Tony's face as he began to sob. It was in the way he grasped at Gibbs and buried his face in the older man's neck like the Marine was the only lifeline in a storm-tossed sea. Tony trusted that Gibbs wouldn't let him drown.

And at the moment, Gibbs realized that _that_ was exactly what he was – a last-ditch hope for survival in the violent storm. Every wall Tony had ever built up to protect himself from years of hurt and disappointment had crumbled with Gibbs' convictions and there was simply nothing left of himself at the moment to rely on – and Tony had only had himself to trust since the day Vinnie died. He had nothing to hold onto right now except for the man he was currently putting all of his trust in. Tony couldn't believe anything about himself at the moment, but he could believe in Gibbs. It was all he had.

"I miss them, Gibbs. I want them back. Why did he have to take them away from me?" Tony's voice cracked as he struggled to keep his emotions from taking him completely over. He never had a chance.

All Gibbs could do was wrap one arm around the young man's heaving shoulders and lay his other hand on the sweat-soaked hair as Tony finally let it all come crashing down. Gibbs simply needed to hold the young man close as violent sobs wracked his frame and threatened to overwhelm him. All he could do was let Tony clutch at Gibbs' back and simply focus on pouring all of his remaining strength into falling apart at the seams. Gibbs held himself strong as he could almost see DiNozzo falling to pieces as everything hit home. Tony was finally breaking and Gibbs was his rock as the guilt that had held onto DiNozzo for far too many years finally set him free.

~~**~~


	10. Turning the Tide

**_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. About 90 percent of this takes place between Gibbs and DiNozzo with a couple of smaller flashbacks to set up the next chapter which will be completely in the past._**

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Turning the Tide**

_GIBBS: They were caught in crossfire._

_McGEE: Whoa, whoa, Boss. Boss. You don't, you don't think they're…well should we put divers in the water, or?_

_GIBBS: They're not in the water. McGee, if they were in the water they'd be dead. If they were dead, I'd know about it. They're not dead.  
_~ 3x12 - Boxed In

* * *

The last time Tony had felt this groggy and unwilling to force his eyelids open, he'd been coming out of anesthesia after being shot in Baltimore his first month on the job. He stilled his breath and focused on his other senses. His mouth felt like someone had stuffed cotton balls in it, but he couldn't hear any beeping and he couldn't smell any antiseptic. Not in a hospital then. The mattress underneath him and the pillow that he was currently smashing his face into didn't feel like his bed at home. There wasn't anyone sharing the bed with him. But he didn't hurt. That afforded him the smallest of comforts – he could believe that he was relatively safe wherever he was. Sleep was pulling at the edges of his consciousness again, and Tony was tempted to give in – at least for a few more hours.

He forced himself to roll off of his stomach and cracked an eye open to take in his surroundings. For the life of him, Tony couldn't remember how he'd ended up back in Gibbs' spare room – and he was resolutely ignoring the headache that suggested too much alcohol. The fact that the numbers on the alarm clock were all blurring together into one big red smear across the readout wasn't nearly as disconcerting as how dark it was in the room. He vaguely remembered being sent to bed at one point, but also remembered how well _that_ had worked out. Tony knew he'd gotten up after that.

And then it all came crashing down on him again. His knuckles were sore from when he'd punched Gibbs, and it was all he could do not to bury his head back under the pillows. Maybe he could will himself to disappear.

"You going to sleep another eighteen hours, or are you about ready to roll your ass out of bed?" The smell of coffee hit Tony's nostrils a second before he heard the creek of floorboards outside the door. Gibbs' gruff voice pushed the last bit of sleep from his mind.

"Do I even want to know what time it is?" Tony was surprised at how rough his own voice sounded and how raw his throat felt.

"It's just past ten."

Tony furrowed his brow and picked his head up long enough to shoot the window – and then Gibbs – a confused look.

"Ten at _night_, DiNozzo. You've been out all day." Gibbs would have let him keep on sleeping if he hadn't begun to ponder – _ponder, not worry about_ – whether or not he should force some food on the young man. The movement from the guest room had helped the decision along some and he took advantage of Tony's brief bout of consciousness.

Tony groaned and rubbed a hand down his face as he contemplated Gibbs' earlier question. He really was tempted to roll back over and fall back to sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept that long uninterrupted.

The growl that broke the silence startled Tony and he resisted the urge to stare down at his stomach in disbelief.

"Let me rephrase that, DiNozzo. Get your ass out of bed. Now." Gibbs hid a pleased smile at the way Tony fell in line at the order – the ex-cop was shaping up to be an excellent second-in-command.

~*~

Tony let the hot water course over his head as he let his arms hold up his weight against the shower wall. It took far too much effort to even lift his head for the moment and all he wanted to do was resurrect the walls that had come crumbling down the night before. He'd never meant to let it get that far. He'd never meant to burden Gibbs with all of his demons. It was like he hadn't had any control over what he'd said. Tony wondered absently if this was what the suspects that Gibbs broke in interrogation felt like after they confessed.

DiNozzo let out a breath and scrubbed at his face. He'd been looking after himself for the better part of his life and it was irking him to think that in the past twenty-four hours he'd seen that change. Tony had been ten years old when he'd realized that no one else was going to take the time to make sure he wasn't dead on the street somewhere.

~*~

Tony didn't know where he was. He had woken up cold and alone on the floor and he had no idea how he'd gotten there. Everyone was gone and no matter how loudly he called out now, no one came to answer him. To say the boy was frightened was an understatement. Hugging himself tightly to ward off the cold and darkness, Tony began to pace along the walls and listened to his bare feet padding on the cold concrete. When he had circled the entire room, the boy sank back down to cower in the corner and struggled to keep the tears from falling. The only way out was at the top of the stairs and every time he tried to climb them, Tony found himself stumbling backwards away from sharp, shooting pain.

Not one to give up easily, Tony refused to allow himself much time curled in the corner before he pulled himself to his feet and paced the room again. If there was no one coming for him, then he'd have to find his way out alone. This time as he explored the room he was locked in, Tony ran his hand along the wall and made his way around the room. He stopped abruptly when he heard the quietest of calls. The little boy would recognize that voice and the smell of lilac and vanilla anywhere. Tony spun around just in time to see Marie calling for him from the top of the stairs.

"Come on, Tony. It's safe now, Baby. I promise. Let's get you out of here."

Warily, Tony reached out for the railing and mounted the first step as intense tremors coursed through his entire body. The searing pain that greeted him last time was absent and it was all the encouragement he needed to bolt up the remaining stairs. Tony had thrown himself into his old caretaker's arms, burying his head into her neck as he drank in the comfort only Marie could provide.

"I missed you, Marie. I'm so sorry that…" Tony trailed off from apologizing for killing her as he was pulled roughly from her arms. The smell of strawberries provided little solace as he struggled out of his mother's arms to get back to Marie. He didn't care that he was a DiNozzo and not 'some housekeeper's brat'. He didn't want the money and everything else he'd been told was all worth it. None of it mattered if it meant he could stay with Marie. It was only when he raised his head to meet Marie's eyes that he stopped fighting.

The bloody visage that greeted him stole Tony's breath threatened to test the limits of his lungs as the woman who had once soothed his hurts now reached out to him in anger as she morphed into the dragon-bear from the basement. The boy turned to hide in his mother's embrace and found himself falling back down the stairs. When he hit the bottom, Tony scurried as quickly as he could into a corner. The dragon-bear was still coming after him. But now it had Marie's voice. She blamed him for killing her, and as the creature reached his mother, the two turned on him.

~*~

Ten-year old Tony DiNozzo threw himself away from his pillow so violently that he was all the way up on his hands and knees before his eyes were even open. Sobs wracked through his frame as he bit his lip to keep the scream from erupting. The tears that dripped down his cheeks stung at his eyes and he scrubbed at them angrily. He had no right to be that weak, but every time he closed his eyes against the salty liquid, Marie's bloody face assaulted his senses and started him anew. He groped through the covers for Vinnie's teddy bear as he heard a sharp laugh by the door to his room. Tony's head shot up and around to ward against the newest threat when he noticed his father staring at him from the room's threshold. It was clear from the man's relaxed stance against the frame that he had been standing there for quite some time, his arms crossed on his chest as he shook his head in utter disappointment. Hope long thought beaten and squashed beneath fear of punishment died a little more when his father simply turned his back and walked away, leaving Tony to wallow in his weakness.

The boy dropped his chin to his chest as the bedroom door slammed shut and pulled himself gingerly down the ladder. Every day since his mother had died brought about a new meaning to the word pain, and Tony was surprised he could still make the climb up and down every day. The bear he had been searching for was on the ground next to Vinnie's bed and as Tony bent down to retrieve the only comfort he had left, the pain lancing across his shoulders intensified and sent him to his knees once more.

No strength left to do anything more than cram himself into the space between the bed and the wall, Tony clutched the bear as tightly as he could and sobbed into the ratty fur. He only moved once, hours later, to rest his head back against the wall and relieve the stretch across his back. The small boy's tears glistened in the moonlight as they continued to streak down his face and drip off his chin. He didn't move again until long after the sun had risen and the tear tracks had dried in his sleep.

~*~

Tony felt the tile crack under his knuckles as the helplessness he'd felt as a child bubbled over into anger and subconscious reaction. He watched in almost morbid fascination as blood dripped down his hand mixed with water. It took him a few seconds to recognize what he'd done and a few more to realize that he'd heard Gibbs shout his name from the other side of the door.

"I'm…good, Boss." The words sounded like the evasion that they were, but Tony had never been more pleased to hear the man grumbling as his footsteps took him away from the door. Only when Tony turned back to survey the damage his repeated blows to the wall had done did he see the telltale marks of Gibbs having done the exact same thing.

~*~

The sound of the shower still running allowed Gibbs the security and privacy to let some of his anger bleed through at the bleak look that even almost a whole days' sleep hadn't quite banished. That, coupled with the sound of breaking tile and the possibly shattering bone that he had envisioned, proved that one night's breakdown wasn't nearly enough to fix everything. He'd only had two years so far to combat a lifetime of Tony's insecurities. The man didn't hope for nor expect a miracle, but the progress that had come from Tony's breakdown the night before had been a start.

As Gibbs reached for a seldom-used box of tea that he knew DiNozzo preferred over coffee, he felt a slight twinge in his back from pulled muscles. He'd known from past experience that Tony was a nightmare as dead weight. After the young man finally exhausted himself to the point that he'd been nearly unconscious, the task of getting him up the stairs and into the guest room had been mostly Gibbs shouldering all of his weight and a less than half-hearted attempt from Tony to help. The young man was barely functioning well enough to keep his feet under him from the combination of far too much alcohol and emotional stress. He'd finally managed to get Tony into the bed and under blankets when he'd heard the barely mumbled, "thanks, Boss". It had been more than enough to prove that it was worth it.

Gibbs heard the water turn off and then listened to Tony stumbling around down the hall. He schooled his emotions back under the guise of disinterest. He was toeing a fine line here, one that he'd made the mistake of overstepping before. Gibbs had tried to tell Tony that he understood where the young man was coming from and Tony's walls had rebuilt so fast, the Marine was almost positive he could actually see them being erected. He was loathe to ever make that mistake again.

He had just managed to pour Tony's tea with a grimace – _who drank tea over coffee anyway_ – and set out a plate full of French toast when he was finally graced with a slightly more awake senior field agent. DiNozzo was running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to dry it as he cracked a hesitant smile at the cup of tea waiting for him. Gibbs watched the young man eye the plate of food as if it might bite him before settling in at the table. Tony's right hand was surreptitiously held behind him until it could be hidden out of sight as he sat.

Tony poked at the breakfast food for a few minutes before his stomach growled loudly in protest at being denied the meal in front of him. He took a first tentative bite before almost grinning in appreciation of the sweet taste and digging in.

DiNozzo had finished almost the entire plate of food before he realized Gibbs was smirking at him. He had the presence of mind to look chagrined at the speed with which he'd devoured the French toast before defending himself with a "guess I was hungrier than I thought."

"Well yeah, DiNozzo. Not eating in over twenty-four hours will do that to you." Gibbs shook his head before his expression changed. "You about ready to show me that hand?"

Tony's ears turned an even deeper shade of red as he warred with himself over what to say. He'd pay for the tiles; that wasn't a problem. But how did you apologize to someone who refused to listen to them?

"Don't move. I'll be right back." Gibbs cut him off before he could even start. The older man was halfway out of the room before he added, "and don't think you're getting away with breaking that tile. I expect you to fix it."

Tony knew that was the last they'd speak about it.

~*~

DiNozzo was picking at the white gauze covering his knuckles when Gibbs' patience wore out. The young man had been sitting silently at the table for over a half an hour and hadn't so much as breathed loudly. The look on his face, however, was switching rapidly back and forth between closed off and defensive and open and vulnerable.

"There's more, isn't there?" Gibbs' voice was quiet as it didn't take a genius to read the reluctance on Tony's face. He wasn't entirely sure how much he should push when DiNozzo was this exhausted, this far out of his element. The sick feeling of voyeurism was creeping in on his gut again, and it was all he could do to push it aside. If it meant getting to the bottom of all of this, then he would force himself to deal with it.

But he wouldn't force Tony to share. It had to be the younger man's decision.

"Look, you're half-dead on your feet. I'll be downstairs. Get your head on straight and then either get some more sleep or come on down. Either way. All right?" The look in Tony's eyes hinted to Gibbs that it was going to be another long night.

~*~

"I had that nightmare about Marie and my mother for years after that. It made living at boarding school an interesting experience, that's for sure." It hadn't taken long for DiNozzo to follow Gibbs down to the basement and perch on the bench again. Tony had dropped his feet to swing off the work bench and they tapped out a staccato beat as his elbows rested on his knees. The coffee mug tipped precariously in lax fingers as his chin dropped to his chest. Clearly the exhaustion that had forced his body to shut down for eighteen hours already wasn't willing to retreat quite yet. Tony was about ready to drop again.

Gibbs wouldn't be surprised if the young man's eyes were suspiciously bright as he fought to stop more tears from flowing. To say the younger agent was completely off-kilter would be an understatement. Usually, Gibbs knew it would take far more than this to worm through the usually Fort Knox worthy defenses. After last night, however, Tony was on the verge of losing the battle over his father's neglect. It was something Tony had never had the privilege of learning as a child – 'never be ashamed of tears, Bud'. Gibbs remembered telling that to Billy Fuentes - the son of a dead paratrooper - earlier in the year.

He couldn't imagine knowing that Kelly was having a nightmare and doing nothing to stop it. Couldn't imagine just watching her writhe in her bed and getting some sort of satisfaction from it. He understood grief, could empathize with those experiencing it – even if he tried his damnedest to bury it so far down that not even his closest friends knew about it. But to ultimately turn your back on all you had left of a life completely and utterly destroyed? Gibbs may be a self-proclaimed bastard, but even _that_ was beyond his comprehension.

"My mother dying was the last straw. For him and for me. It had been a long time since she had spent any real length of time sober, but I could still remember how she was before…before it all. When she…died, there was nothing left for me there. And there was no one left that my father ever really loved. He threw himself so completely into his work that I'm pretty sure he forgot I existed unless he'd had a bad day at the office. That was when I used to really bait him into realizing that I was there. I didn't much care what he did to me by that point. In my head it was my way of winning. He could hit me all he wanted, but it meant that he had to acknowledge me."

~*~

The slamming of the front door was the only sound that alerted Tony of his father's presence in the house. He hadn't seen the man or his newest wife in over a week and knew that tonight would be more of the same. There was no business function to attend; none of his father's associates were meeting with him to go over the books, no reason for the man to put on an act. The new house was big enough that unless Tony went looking for him, the two would pass through yet another night in solitude. Most nights that suited the boy just fine. There was no reason to experience his father's increasing creativity in how to get his lessons across. In the two years since his mother had died, the DiNozzo men had moved four times – each one coinciding with yet another failed marriage. Tony didn't even bother to learn their names anymore.

One of the staff would summon him for dinner after his father had eaten, or he would eat in the kitchen with them. His school clothes were laid out by one of the housekeepers. He was driven to school before his father left for work and expected to wait outside the front gate at the end of his day to be picked up. Other than that, Tony was on his own when he wasn't expected to be with his tutor or attending a business dinner to cement his place as heir to the DiNozzo fortune. Once every other Saturday he was required to accompany his father to work and spend the day learning his future. Tony dreaded those days most of all.

But today was different. His school was sponsoring a youth basketball league on Saturday afternoons and one of the teachers had noticed Tony playing in gym class. The man had spoken to the boy at length about the league and given him a permission slip and flyer for his father. Memories of Cub Scouts and his father's first lesson rung dimly in the back of his mind, but it hadn't taken Tony long to realize that whether or not he followed his father's ever-changing guidelines, the outcome would be the same. At the very least, he was going to try and get permission to play with his friends again. It wasn't like he would be taking time away from being with his father.

The boy changed out of his brother's tee-shirt into one of his older button down shirts, just in case. If his father was in a bad mood, risking this foray into his office would end up in a lesson and the Oxford shirts were much easier to don than trying to pull cotton down over his back. He took the two papers and carefully made his way down to find his father.

~*~

The man he sought was sitting at his desk with a tumbler full of rich amber liquid in his hand. The scowl on his face as he looked over the latest set of papers was deepening even further as Tony stood between the oversized chairs. Despite the growing thought that this was going to be a bad idea, the boy was determined. He also had an idea that to turn around and leave now would be just as bad as waiting his father out. Enough of his lessons centered on how weak and useless the boy was, on how he needed to learn persistence. Tony didn't want to give his father any more fuel.

He wasn't sure how long he waited before he realized that he had been tapping his foot and biting his lip. He tried to stop fidgeting and only succeeded in changing the tempo he was beating out. His father hadn't so much as made eye contact with him, but the suffering sigh that escaped the man's lips assured the boy that he wasn't invisible. Instantly at the sound, Tony stilled and looked up expectantly. His father simply returned to his paperwork and continued ignoring the boy in front of him.

Tony waited until his patience had run thin and even then did little more than start rocking back and forth on his heels. He was silent the entire time, waiting his turn and hoping that his father would take this as a sign that he was learning to 'be persistent for what he wanted'. It wasn't until his father got up and began walking towards the door that the boy finally spoke up.

"Father? Do you have a minute?" Tony stepped in front of the man and blocked his path. A move like this would either garner some semblance of momentary respect or get him knocked to the ground. Either way, he had to be acknowledged somehow.

Tony was surprised when his father turned back to his intercom. When he was answered, the statement threatened to bring tears.

"There's a problem in my study. Please come and deal with it immediately." The detached way in which the man spoke suggested that it was unimportant and cut Tony closer to the quick than any punishment ever would.

"Please, sir. I just need you to sign this for school. Then I'll go. You didn't have to call him." Tony held out the permission slip hesitantly.

In response, his father simply turned and poured himself a healthy measure of his favorite scotch. Tony knew that no matter what he did now wouldn't change the outcome and took a chance. After all, his father often spoke about taking chances with the market to increase his net worth. Maybe this was what he meant.

The boy picked up a pen from the desk and padded over to his father. He lay the slip down on the bar and held the pen out expectantly. He could see the way his hands trembled in anticipation of what was to come, but his face was resolute. Tony's father glanced down once at him and something sparked in the man's eyes.

The door opened and whatever progress the boy may have made with his father was gone. They both turned to see the head of security enter the room and nod his understanding. Tony bowed his head in defeat and moved over to the chair, pulling his shirt over his head as he did so.

"Make sure the little bastard learns his lesson and learns it well. I don't want the worthless brat to ever forget his place in this household. Call me when you're done if I need to phone his physician."

~~**~~

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	11. Hostile Takeover

**_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. This will be BY FAR the most graphic representation of Tony's past in the story and is most likely going to leave a sour taste in your mouth. Think of this as the "due to the violent nature of this program, parental discretion is advised" warning - and take that into serious consideration before reading._**

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* * *

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Chapter 11 – Hostile Takeover

_ZIVA: What would you do if you woke up one day and you discovered you were married to a monster?_

_TONY: Happened to my father all the time. We usually just moved.  
_~ 4x10 – Smoked

* * *

Tony gulped as tremors shook his small frame. He climbed up into the worn cushions and buried his face in the corner of the upright to wait. Hot tears were already checked at the corners of his eyes and he knew that if they were seen, another lesson would be added to this one. The head of security tolerated crying even less than his father, and was far more heavy-handed. Truth be told, however, Tony preferred the employee's punishments to his father's. Most days. At least when the pain got to be too much and he wanted nothing more than for whoever was hurting him to be struck dead, Tony didn't have to feel awful about hating the guard. The man had his own family to go home to – Tony's father was stuck with the disappointment that Tony was as his only remaining family member – his only reminder of all he had lost.

"Oh I don't think so, Anthony. You aren't a little boy anymore. You don't get to be coddled. Stand up and put your shirt on." The guard's voice was quiet and dangerous, with enough venom dripping from each word to send shivers coursing down the boy's bare back. This was a change to the script and the frightened child didn't know his lines.

Tony slowly climbed to his feet and pulled the fabric over his head before turning around. He could feel the way his hands shook as he had fumbled with the buttons and now his breath was catching in his throat. _On the list of dumb ideas, Anthony – this one is right up there._ If Tony used the extra seconds he gained by struggling with the material to wipe away the tears with the neck of his shirt, the boy would never admit to it.

Wide eyes met the cold ones of the guard as he waited for his next instruction. This was uncharted territory and he didn't want to do anything that would make it worse. There was a glint in the man's gaze that intensified the cold feeling in his stomach he had always associated with the guard's presence.

A crook of the finger beckoned Tony to the huge desk where items were being placed carefully on the ground. The boy watched with bated breath as the space was cleared of his father's papers and photo frames. A shot of his mother and Vinnie was carefully placed near a photo from his parents' wedding. Vinnie in his Navy dress whites. Vinnie riding one of the horses at the summer home. His mother sitting under an awning. A shot of his parents and Vinnie in front of Big Ben in London. There was nothing on the ornate desk to suggest that Anthony DiNozzo was even part of the family.

"Turn around and take down your pants. It's time you stood up like a man and faced the consequences." Without even looking, Tony could hear the smile that the security guard wore. There was a cold steel to the words, but it was clear to the boy from the tone that one of them was going to enjoy this. He had no doubts about which one of them it would be.

Tony shook more forcefully as his feet ground to an abrupt halt still three steps away from his punisher. His lips parted as if to ask a question before thinking better of it. Try as he might, however, the boy couldn't force himself to take another step as the man in front of him removed his belt. The large brass buckle glinted in the light as it dangled near the ground and Tony's gaze stalled on how shiny it looked. He wondered idly if it would still look that new when it was stained with his blood. How easily did bloodstains come out of brass, anyway? The security guard was wrapping the other end of the leather around his fist and simply pointed to the cleared off spot on the desk.

"Stand there. Now." He clearly didn't have time for the boy to be stubborn.

When Tony still couldn't move, he was grabbed roughly around his biceps and thrown against the desk. He bit back a cry as his hip impacted the corner and regained his balance. The man didn't ask this time as he spun the boy around and shoved him forward so that Tony had to brace his hands on the polished wood to keep from falling over.

"Pants. Now. I don't have all day to waste on you, Boy."

Not seeing any other choice, Tony's suddenly clumsy fingers fumbled with the button and zipper before dropping the khakis around his ankles. He couldn't help the tears that were leaking from the corners of his eyes now and simply tried not to sniffle.

The guard's next words sounded like a cross between exasperated and disappointed. It was an odd mix. "You know better than that. Did I ever let you get away with leaving your undershirt on when I was teaching you?"

Tony had to think hard for a moment to make the connection before he turned a startled look at his captor. _Surely he wasn't expected to_…the thought trailed off as he saw the increasingly impatient look that was thrown back at him. Shock settled deeply into his stomach and the need to be physically ill almost overwhelmed him. _He couldn't. He wouldn't. Father would never expect him to…_His thoughts were cut off as the sound of leather smacking against wood showed just how irritated the guard was getting. The man had never had any tolerance for stalling – Tony had learned that the hard way. With no other choice, Tony had to bite his tongue to swallow the bile back down as he moved to obey.

Cool air from the slightly open window assaulted his bare skin as the boy turned back to the desk and tried to ignore the man as he stepped up to Tony's left side. The guard's meaty hand pushed down between his shoulder blades with such ferocity that it was almost a blow in and of itself. Tony's upper body was pushed forward until his elbows rested on the desk and his head dropped in defeat to rest on his clenched fists. He knew better than to move when the sweaty palm disappeared. The boy's green eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he concentrated on controlling his breathing and recalling the finer points of _Never Say Never Again_ – Sean Connery's latest reprisal of James Bond.

"How many, sir?" Tony warred with himself about the intelligence in asking. He had always been able to handle the punishments when he could see a foreseeable end to the lesson, so he took the chance.

"Until you've learned your place, Boy."

The slice of leather through air and the grunt of exertion from the guard was only a bare second before the loud crack of the belt against his backside. The strangled cry he couldn't control to keep from breaking through his lips was almost simultaneous with the falling of the belt.

Tony had been expecting the pain of the lash to be similar to the strikes to his back that he was used to. Even when his father had gotten more creative with his lessons, Tony had been able to count on the hurt to be similar. He had not been expecting the unabused soft flesh to be so sensitive, nor had he imagined that the intensity would be so strong. His feet took him automatically away from the hurt as his hand clutched at his hip where the metal buckle had bruised the skin. The heavy brass had left a dark mark and it hurt almost more than where the leather had cut. The boy forgot about the pants wrapped around his ankles and would have crashed to the ground if the guard hadn't already reached out to prevent his escape.

"Your father wanted you taught to recognize when he isn't to be disturbed. I would think that it would be a pretty poor showing on my part if you didn't learn when to hold your tongue and let him carry on with his affairs in peace. I'll even give you an incentive. Every time you cry out, I'll add another to the end of your punishment. And I'll even let you count them. I trust you remember our lesson on lying?"

"Yes, sir." The whisper was choked with tears.

"Good. Now bend over. Let's get this over with." The man's voice didn't sound angry. It didn't sound like he even cared about what he was doing. He had no motive for being so cruel with the boy. Something about that grated on Tony's thoughts as the next stroke fell. He managed to keep silent this time as the metal and leather lit a line of pain across his skin. Sean Connery's strong accent filled his thoughts as he remembered every Bond quote that he could think of. Anything to escape the hot, burning pain that assaulted his backside.

A third and fourth stroke left welts in their wake and Tony could hear the man grunting heavily as he put more and more force behind the blows. Tears stung his eyes and ran down over his fingers as the buckle continued to leave bruises along the side of his back. His father had always made sure to hold the metal end.

When a fifth lash landed the buckle directly on his hip bone and pinched flesh between brass and bone, Tony wasn't ready for the increase in pain and couldn't stifle the shout. He heard the man chuckle and bit his lip. _That's one,_ he thought silently as he felt the tremors begin to increase to full-fledged shakes. How long would it take to learn this lesson? The guard had always metered out punishment consummate with his age. Maybe it would only be seven more? Tony didn't know if he could handle that many with the buckle falling again and again on the unprotected hip bone.

As the next few strokes landed, Tony had to spit a piece of the inside of his lip into his hand to keep from swallowing it. Blood pooled under his tongue and leaked out through his lips. Swallowing it made him nauseous on top of the pain and humiliation. He tried to imagine Marie's arms pulling him close and holding him safe, but when the ninth stroke fell and brought horrific images of her doing the beating, he banished her from his mind. The tenth lash ripped another cry from his lips and another chuckle. He prayed to anyone who would listen that it was almost over.

The next two strokes fell even harder and Tony could feel the blood begin to drip slowly down his legs. He sniffled when his tormentor paused; it was getting hard to breathe with his nose clogged.

The boy heard movement and warred with himself if he dared to take a look to see what was going on around him.

"Don't move, Anthony. I'm not even close to done yet. Just needed to give the arm a rest. I'm pitching this weekend." It was said with such an air of nonchalance that it could have been said at one of his father's dinner functions and no one would have thought the wiser.

Tony took a deep breath at the unexpected reprieve and made the mistake of letting his guard down momentarily. He had assumed that 'giving the arm a rest' meant a break in the punishment. But the leather fell again from the other side of his shaking body and yet another cry erupted as the brass buckle battered his unharmed left hip. A sharp glance to his right showed that the guard had simply switched hands.

"You don't seem to be learning to be quiet too well, Anthony. You're only making it worse for yourself, you know."

"Yes, sir." He had learned long ago that not answering this man was a quick way to more inventive punishments.

More strokes fell and tore at the tender flesh until the blood running down his legs was staining his pants. Tears and snot made his hands sticky as Tony ground his teeth tightly together. He lost count of how long his punishment had lasted and struggled to keep his feet underneath him.

When a strike landed across the previously spared thighs it was too much and Tony's knees buckled, sending him crashing to the ground. Reflexes took over and he curled into a small ball, sobbing for breath as the pressure on his diaphragm changed.

"Well that was possibly the dumbest thing you've done to date, Anthony." The security guard hauled him up before standing him against the desk again, but the boy couldn't keep his knees locked to stand and crumpled to the ground again. He was just completely spent.

"We aren't done yet, Anthony. We haven't addressed the issue of your insistence on being vocal. Get up."

The boy tried to push himself to his knees, but his arms wouldn't support his weight for the shivers. As he was lifted from the ground again, a chilling voice whispered in his ear.

"You're going to pay for your insolence, Boy."

Stood to his feet once again, Tony grasped at the sides of the desk to try and support his weight. As the next stroke landed harder than any of the others and his knees went limp once more, the boy felt the warm trickle of urine running down his leg before he crashed to the ground again.

"Poor little Anthony, can't even stomach the results of his own actions."

Tony felt his feet leave the floor as he was lifted onto the desk and a discarded pen ground into his stomach as he was held down by a hand to the back of his neck. He remained in that position as the devil spawn trapping him rained down blow after blow until each stroke caused him to howl in pain. As much as the boy tried to stifle the noise by grinding his face into his shoulder, his walls had been bowled over and demolished. Any thoughts of self-preservation had long ago fled for safer pastures and the boy couldn't have stopped the cries for anything. The man punishing him could have been holding a gun to his head at the moment and Tony couldn't have forced himself to be quiet. Guttural cries and pain-filled babble spilled from his lips as hot tears of disgrace, failure, and perceived weakness stung at his eyes and traced down his face. Each tear ripped at his self-image even more than the blood-soaked leather in the man's hands. He should be better than this.

"I trust you've learned not to bother your father anymore, haven't you?"

Tony shook his head as he tried to suck in enough breath to form a competent response. His throat had been reduced to a raw fiery pain by the howling. He'd been very close to begging the man to give him a few minutes' rest. Tony could at least say that he hadn't hit that low yet – he'd never reduce himself to begging if he could help it.

"Yes, sir."

"And how many times did you ignore your lessons about being quiet?"

"Seven, sir." At least, he hoped it was only seven. He counted the last crying jag as one time since it had been a constant state of yelling and tears.

"And we'll add in three more for trying to get out of your lesson like the weak little whelp you are."

Ten more lines of pain crossed his lower back and legs before he was finished. Something had snapped in him, however, and when he was finally allowed to slump to the ground and kneel in his own bodily fluids, the tears ceased and hot anger coursed through him. His father could have stopped all of this by signing a stupid piece of paper.

"Get up and get dressed. You can wear those for the rest of the day to remind you of just how weak you are."

Tony stood on shaky legs. Anger and adrenaline were quickly battling back the gray spots at the edge of his vision that suggested the lengthy punishment had brought him close to the black peace of unconsciousness.

"Yes, sir." The tone of his voice glinted with a hint of dangerous disregard that proved his lesson hadn't chased away want for his father's personal attention.

"What the Hell just happened in here?" Tony's newest step-mother saw the blood on the carpet, smelled the urine, and saw the red, tear-streaked face. She didn't wait for an answer, but stormed out after her husband. Tony rolled his eyes and sighed.

His penchant for humor even in the worst of times surfaced as he turned to the man who had just beaten him close to his limits. "Guess we're gonna be moving again, aren't we?"

It wasn't the first time his lessons had been interrupted by an unsuspecting trophy.

"Go to your room, Anthony. And don't bother your father anymore. I don't want to repeat this experience because you couldn't remember what happens when you antagonize him."

"Yes, sir."

~*~

Unfortunately, the rebellious streak that had awakened in Tony recently left him heading anywhere but to the sanctity of his room. He had waited over an hour for his father to grant him his time, and the boy was damned well sure he had earned a few minutes. The lacerations that pulled with every step he took were going to need to be seen to anyway; he had nothing to lose by angering his father further.

His father was shutting the door to his bedroom, calling through the door that he would find out what was going on as he turned away. His eyes lit on the source of his problems and he turned in the other direction.

"Father." It was a statement made with far more confidence than the man had ever heard the boy address him with. By rights Tony should have been curled in a ball somewhere quaking in fear if this newest wife hadn't exaggerated.

The man squared his shoulders and continued walking. He'd have to speak to his chief security advisor about following orders if the boy was pestering him again already.

When calling out to him twice more did nothing but anger Tony even more, he clenched his teeth and reached for the vase on the table next to him. Picking it up and smashing it to the ground, Tony finally got the reaction he was waiting for. He stood firm and met his father's angry gaze. There was definitely no turning back now. With the stinging and throbbing from his recent punishment spurring him on, he found the strength not to cower or shake. He'd damned well earned that right.

His father stormed back to tower over his son and dragged him into the nearest room, slamming the door behind him and throwing the latch. Tony gulped but set the glare on his face to match his father's angry countenance.

"You worthless little bastard. That was your mother's." When his voice cracked at the mention of his first wife, Tony's father shook the boy violently before pulling back as if he'd been burned. Tony watched the man glance at his own hands as if they were someone else's for only an instant before a mask of anger settled on the elder DiNozzo's face once more.

"I don't care! I'm your son and you're going to listen to me." Tony's red face darkened as he met his father's eyes fearlessly. There was a sense of reckless abandon awakening in Tony and because of its fuel, he was able to face the man in front of him. It was the first time in years that the boy had been in the same room with the man without wanting to run and hide. It was the first time that he started to realize that maybe there should be more to his life than just all-encompassing fear.

"You are no son of mine. _My_ son would be following in the well-placed footsteps that I've set out for him so that he can have the best. _You_ are going to turn out to be a good-for-nothing drain on what I've left for you. Until you can realize that and act like a DiNozzo, I don't want anything to do with you." The cold words burned hot in Tony's gut and fear of further pain did nothing to censor his thoughts.

"I don't want to be _you_. There is _nothing_ about you that I want to be like when I grow up. I'm not going to do anything with your stupid business and your stupid friends and your stupid money! It hasn't done anything for you. All it's done is make you lose _everything_. And that made _me_ lose everything. You said that I killed Marie and Mother; well I wouldn't have been able to kill them if you weren't the jerk that you are. _You_ made me like this. _You_ made me kill them! Vinnie never would have left us if he didn't _hate_ you like I do. He knew better and he wanted to get as far away from you as he possibly could! You pushed your whole family away from us. I _never_ want to be like you." Tears flowed down his face as his temper put thoughts of how to anger his father most into his head.

The man in front of him looked crestfallen for a minute as his young son was throwing everything he sought to drown in liquor back in his face. Tony hadn't gotten his temper from thin air; it was something of a DiNozzo legend.

"That's enough, Anthony. I won't tolerate an attitude like that from my business associates. And they mean something to me. You're nothing to me, so don't think for an instant that I will respond in a way that you'll like. Believe me, Anthony. Believe me when I tell you that I've gotten rid of men for far less." The quiet tone to his voice was foreign to Tony's ears, but it wasn't enough to stop him.

"I don't care what you're going to do. Not anymore. It's not any worse than anything you've done already. Or had someone else do. You weren't even strong enough to do it yourself. You had to get someone or some_thing_ else to do it for you. _You _can't even bear the thought of touching me, can you? You think I'm afraid of you? Well I'm not anymore. Because I don't care what you say, I'm not going to run your business or take your money or _anything_ like that. You don't want me as your son? Well I don't you as my father. I'd rather live on the streets than turn into you. I don't want to be a DiNozzo if it means I have to be a drunk like you!"

Tony was panting as if he'd just run sprints for an entire gym class and his face was scrunched in pure hatred. Every moment of agony and humiliation he'd had to endure in the past day alone was enough to fuel him on, but to add in the past four years to the mix sent him past any barriers of self-control he may have had.

"Fine!" His father's anger matched Tony's in decibels. "If that's the way you want it, then we're done. I never wanted to put up with you anyway, you worthless little bastard. You go off and do what you think is best, but you'll do it without the help, wealth, or name that comes with being a DiNozzo. And when you fail, don't you dare think about running back to me." Tony's father smirked as if he knew a secret that his son wasn't yet privy to.

"Your brother couldn't hack it, and he was a better human being than you'll ever be. You're going to end up in the gutter you good for nothing loser. You want to go off and be some stupid sailor or one of those deadbeat cops you saw at work, then that's your choice, Anthony. You won't do anyone any good and you'll just screw up, so if that's what you want to end up with, fine. But you'll do it without a cent of mine and when you fall flat on your face, don't come crying to me. When people start _dying_ because you can't do anything right and you have their blood on your hands, you'll see I was right. You already have Marie and your mother's blood on your hands. And Vincent's too. He died because of _you_. And I don't want to associate with a murderer. As of this moment, you are no longer my son. I'll have my lawyers updated within the hour. You'll never see a penny or the fortune of the DiNozzo name." He turned back to the door.

"I don't want your money anyway!" Tony screeched as the tears poured down his face. "I don't want anything to do with you. I hate you!"

The boy's anger would have continued to pick at his father's insecurities if the adrenaline that had been hiding his hurts hadn't begun to fail. He had been running on fumes for far too long already and he'd focused every last drop of energy into the anger that had been building up for years. Blood loss could only be held at bay for so long. He opened his mouth to continue the argument. He wanted to let his father know that when he grew up he was going to find a way to get back at the man. How he was going to make sure that he found some way to bring his father's business down so that he had nothing left. The words never made it out as the gray spots turned to black and he crumpled to the ground unconscious to the sound of the door slamming. He never heard the 'click' of the door locking him in.

~~**~~

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_Author's Note: If you made it through the whole chapter, I'd really appreciate your honest reactions to this chapter. It was a difficult chapter to write and I debated with not including it, but I think it would have taken something drastic to give a 12-year old Tony enough courage and reckless abandon to face down his father - and then to not back down and stand his ground to the extent that he did. _


	12. Carrying On

******_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Anything in the chapter is by far less concerning than the last chapter, but still contains the threat of abuse._**

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C**hapter 12 –Carrying On**

_TONY: I'm so glad my parents pushed me into sports in high school.  
_~ 1x04 – The Immortals

* * *

"Oh my word, Master Anthony!" The shrill female voice cut through the air in the room and was enough to startle the young boy still lying facedown on the carpet into some semblance of consciousness. It wasn't enough, however, to pull him from the darkness and allow him to open his eyes. That came when a soft hand came into contact with his low back and ignited fire running down his legs. Tony's eyes opened blearily as he struggled to find the energy to shy away from the painful touch.

There was a blob of black and white above him that was far too slight to be either his father or the security guard. One of the house staff must have found him, then.

Tony lazily licked at his lips and forced himself to speak. "'M 'kay."

"You most certainly are not; I'm going to get your father." She was on her feet and out the door before he could piece together another sentence.

With the centering pain in his back no longer being brought to the focus of his attention, Tony didn't see the point in holding onto consciousness for _that_ reunion and simply let himself fall back into the darkness. It was cool, quiet, and safe there.

~*~

The first thing Tony was aware of beyond the darkness was the cool breeze that was assaulting his bare back. It brought back the events of his last punishment crashing to the forefront of his mind. When he could feel pressure against his thighs, instinct took over and he was scrambling to get away from his newest tormentor before he could even open his eyes.

A strong hand on the middle of his back held him in place and he couldn't summon the strength to fight it off. Shudders wracked through his already abused body as he tried to hold off tears and slumped back down, boneless and petrified. _Was this how it was going to be now?_

The hand lightened up on his back and moved to grip his shoulder, a thumb soothingly running circles over his shoulder blade until the tremors that coursed through him started to ease. The feeling of comfort was so foreign to Tony, and so far removed from what he was expecting, that he couldn't help the silent tears that tracked through closed eyelids and spilled onto his cheeks. Slowly, the murmurs he could hear morphed into words and settled the knot of fear in his stomach.

"It's all right, my boy. Just relax now. No one's hurting you." The family physician's deep voice allowed Tony to finally ease up the tension in his muscles and gather the courage to open his eyes.

The hand left his shoulder and left Tony feeling lost again, but when the cool of the needle slid into the crook of his arm, he welcomed the return to peace and quiet. The chill of the sedative racing through his veins wasn't an unfamiliar feeling by now, and Tony welcomed the reprieve. It would keep away the nightmares. He was out before he could notice the tears of helplessness checked in the corners of the old man's eyes.

~*~

When Tony woke for good three days later, he could vaguely remember a woman's scream that must have brought help to him. It would be a long few years before he could look back and piece together the events that had led from his punishment to where he found himself now. Tony was lying on his stomach in his room, soft sheets and blankets piled on top of him. One of the housekeepers was dusting in the corner when he tried to get up.

"Master Anthony, lay still. I'll let your father know you're awake."

Tony groaned as he settled back down onto the mattress. He buried his face in the pillows for a moment before her words could sink in. His voice cracked with disuse and dehydration. "Don't bother, he won't come."

"Of course he will. You're just still sick." The housekeeper adjusted the blankets around him and headed for the door.

She was gone before he could ask for some water. The boy levered himself to his feet and bit back a cry as hurts made themselves known again. _Sick? That's what he's telling them?_ Tony shook his head and managed to rise to his feet. If he was going to be on his own, he'd better get used to doing things by himself and not bothering to complain about it. It wasn't like it would get him anywhere anyway.

~*~

Tony wasn't surprised when he had made it back from the bathroom with only a few stumbles and no one was waiting for him at his bedside. He hadn't expected the man who raised him to show any concern as to whether the boy living in his house was doing better, and with the words of anger that had come tumbling from both DiNozzos' mouths running through Tony's head in perfect audio, the boy knew things were going to change irrevocably.

With no one to tell him any different, Tony slumped back into the bed and buried himself in the blankets. Images of Thomas Magnum breaking down the doors and making his father pay for all he'd done followed the boy back into sleep.

~*~

Gibbs took a long drink of his liquor before he could come to terms with the fact that Tony seemed so at ease with being disowned at all of twelve years old. The details of the argument had been illustrated for him in full glory, but he had a feeling that what was retold to him about the events leading up to the fight was a watered-down version. Regardless, it was still enough to make him want to meet his field agent's father in a dark alley – with Abby's knowledge of leaving no forensic trace behind – and show the man what happened when you messed with one of his people. It would be a long night if it were ever to happen, that much was for sure.

Finally able to look Tony in the eye without unconsciously transferring his anger at the elder DiNozzo onto the innocent son, Gibbs took in the nervous energy that was causing the young man's eyes to dart around the dim basement. That he was still sitting Indian-style on the workbench was a marvel in itself. Gibbs would have thought that with that much energy coursing through him, he would be dizzy from tracking Tony's frantic pacing once again. Knowing that he couldn't push too hard and sure that Tony couldn't take a repeat of the previous night, Gibbs opted for safer, calmer waters for the moment.

"So how many women does your father owe alimony payments to? Or did he manage pre-nups with all of them?"

The smile Tony rewarded him with was worth it. "You probably pay more than he does, but I'm really not sure. I've lived in…seven different houses – so at least that many – and that was all before he shipped me off to Rhode Island for high school."

"NAPS is only a one-year prep school. Where'd he send you before that?"

"I was a proud member of the St. George's Dragons for three years before heading off to the military academy." Gibbs could tell from the tone in DiNozzo's voice that being banished to boarding school had been a chance rather than a punishment for the young man. His next comment was vastly different and spoke more of his father's continuing influence on his life. "Wasn't my choice to leave, but it was either that or try to come up with the tuition on my own."

"Doesn't sound like the same man that disowned you at twelve. What happened?" Gibbs was genuinely curious why the man who hated everything his son wanted to be in life would go to such lengths to pave the way into the military. The picture Tony had painted of the man had been one of unwavering convictions – not willing to ever back down. This new information threw contrasting colors onto that palate.

Tony was silent for a minute as if the thought hadn't occurred to him before. When he spoke, he sounded almost lost – speaking of his father as if the man hadn't beaten him down for years. "I think he finally realized that he was losing everything that money couldn't buy, and it was a pretty rude awakening for him. That and the woman he married when I was thirteen didn't seem to follow the pattern of sticking around for a few months and then taking off. She kept pushing him to remember that I was still living in the house and that he may as well make use of it."

Tony sounded as if he genuinely missed this woman, even if she had only been one on a list of stepmothers who came and went faster than a boy could form an attachment.

"He still married to her?"

"Oh God, no. She left the same day I moved to Rhode Island. Turned out that the only reason she married my father and not this other guy was that she wanted a trophy kid to show off. She's the one that convinced my father to let me play football and basketball. When I left for St. George's for high school, it was the last time either of us set foot in the same house as my father as far as I know."

Gibbs started. He hadn't actually realized that. "You haven't been home since you were fourteen?"

"Nah." The tone was nonchalant, as if the young man didn't care. But Gibbs knew better, could see plain as day just how much Tony would have given up to have been able to go home. Even if it meant being beaten. Even if it meant being ignored. The boy he had been needed a family. Hell, the man he was today needed a family.

Tony looked to his coffee mug for a moment. "There were enough kids from other countries that it wasn't a big deal to stick around over Christmas break, or I went skiing with one of my friends' families. In the summer I went to camp or overseas to visit relatives."

"Your father…"

"Paid for all of that? Yeah. It was his choice. You know, by the time he got around to remembering that he had had two sons and that maybe he should make the best of what he had, I just didn't care anymore. Without me around, he got used to not having to punish me, so it was easy. And I didn't mind. I had enough bruises and the like from football, basketball, and lacrosse that I didn't miss the ones I got from home."

"Doesn't change what he did to you." Gibbs needed to hammer this point home if it was the last thing he did. He wasn't sure Tony understood it.

"No. It doesn't. But he thought he was doing better by me. By the time he came around and tried to give me what he thought I wanted most, I hadn't wanted to go into the Navy in years. All I wanted was…he couldn't give me that. But I saw being sent away for what it was. He was trying. I just…I wish he'd have tried harder…sooner. Or maybe realized that it needed to be more than a one-time concession. I don't know, I just...I feel sorry for him."

~*~

Tony looked up at the new house and wondered yet again if this would be the last time they moved. He hadn't even bothered to take things out of boxes the last time around, and he had a feeling that it wouldn't be much different this time. All of his important things were stored safely away in the day room at his school. His father had toyed with the idea of sending him to boarding school full time, but this latest wife seemed adamant that Tony still needed to come home at the end of the day.

At least the newest wife didn't have any children. The last one's daughter had four years and almost fifty pounds on the still scrawny youth and had taken every advantage to bully him around. She'd even had his father's blessing to 'toughen him up'. It didn't matter that Marie, Vinnie and his mother had all taught him never to hit a girl; she hadn't shown him any mercy when he refused to fight back. His father had just laughed and said he was weak. Tony was pretty sure he still had bruises.

"Come on, Anthony. Let's go find you a bedroom." The silky voice was accompanied by a light hand on his shoulder, but it didn't register with the boy. It didn't bode well for him if he got used to someone caring. They'd turn on him or leave before too long anyway and it would be all the harder to forget. He had learned that lesson quickly.

"Don't bother with him, Dear. The boy knows where to find his room and he's not worth your time. Come with me and I'll show you around." His father's voice was icy and he made no move to acknowledge his son's presence.

"Oh, stop that." She chided mock-seriously. "He's your son; of course I'll bother with him. He's going to make us proud, you'll see."

The snort of derision that came from his father was expected and Tony just shrugged away from her hand. Better to end this now before his father turned it around to be his fault.

"It's all right, ma'am. I'll just get out of your hair." His voice was quiet and submissive as was expected of him, even if it did make him snarl on the inside. Tony turned back towards the house and made his way down to the staff wing. It had been a long year since he'd been allowed to live in the 'civilized' parts of the house.

"Well meet us back here in an hour, Anthony. We'll need to buy you some equipment if you're going to start football next week." Tony looked up in pure surprise at his stepmother's declaration. He was going to be allowed to play sports finally? His green eyes lit up at the mere thought of it.

His father sputtered and Tony's eyes began to dim. He knew better than to get his hopes up.

"Football? I won't have it. I won't have someone with my name rolling around the dirt like a dog. Leave that to the bums on the street. I won't degrade our name like that."

"Nonsense, it will be good for him. We'll have a little star on our hands, I know it. It will give him a chance to experience competition and learn how to win. Won't that be good for him when he grows up? When you and I retire to someplace warm…and tropical…and secluded?" She whispered something in his ear and giggled.

The man's face lightened considerably, but his tone was still incredulous. "Fine. If it will make you happy, my dear."

Tony's head jolted around to take in his father's scowl and his step-mother's grin. His eyes met his father who nodded in defeat.

"One hour, Anthony. One minute late and you can forget about it."

~*~

Tony struggled to pick at the knot in his basketball shoes with his father's latest bad day already showing on his hand in the form of a shoe print, making his fingers clumsy. The man had stopped making excuses and had started summoning his whipping boy solely to make someone else's life as miserable as his was. The boy had almost had enough. In his mind, there couldn't be much worse out there than living under this roof and he was vaguely aware that one more transgression from his father when Tony was in this mood would send him running for the hills so to speak. He had hoped that his sports-oriented stepmother would be able to tame the man a bit, but in the past six months she had done little more than push him into more teams and sports. Her presence on the home front did little to help otherwise.

Water coursed over his short hair as the grime and sweat washed down the drain. Scars on his back stood out in sharp contrast with the hot water pouring over them. Expertly taken care of, they still couldn't be completely hidden and the boy would carry them the rest of his life. Hidden away like the rest of the broken parts of him behind jokes and smiles, his scars would always remind him of how little he meant in the long run. He sometimes wondered what would have happened to his father if the accident on the night of his conception hadn't happened. Would he have turned to the bottle if he hadn't been forced to see his oldest son reflected in his youngest? If the green eyes that Tony boasted didn't remind the man of the woman he'd lost?

He didn't need his father's constant reminders of all that he had cost the family. He had enough self-blame riddling the holes in his character all on his own.

The tears were easily hidden in the hot water as they coursed down his face unchecked, but the sniffles were not. He hadn't even noticed them beginning until long after his nose was stuffed and the water was starting to cool. He did, however, notice when the door opened and one of the staff called through the door.

"Your father has requested your presence when you're decent, Master Anthony."

Tony sighed. He had a game tomorrow; his team couldn't afford his father's bad mood – they were in a playoff race. Why couldn't the man just leave him alone? Drown his sorrows in alcohol and the woman at his side instead of by making his son pay for unknown transgressions.

Not that it mattered what he thought or wanted. He was to do as he was told when he was told or he didn't want to think about the repercussions.

"Thank you, I'll be right out."

~*~

Dressed once again in his school clothes, the teenager slowly made his way to his father's office. The chairs that had once been the bane of his existence had been left behind in his first home, but the new leather seats still made the boy wary. As he stood at attention between them, he wondered how bad of a day the man had experienced.

The longer he was made to wait, the more impatient and angry Tony became. He had homework to finish before he could sleep and he wanted to make sure that he got enough rest to heal from whatever his father had in mind before the game. As an eighth-grader, his junior high team was counting on him to lead them to a victory that would clinch a spot in the district playoff bracket. His latest growth spurt had caused him a beating for costing his father more money in uniforms for school, but had also given him a significant advantage on the courts.

When Tony's patience finally wore out, the boy asked insolently, "did you want something, Sir?"

His father's glare no longer frightened him. Whether or not he had asked, he would still inevitably be slinking carefully out of the room when he was done. Better to get it over with quickly so he could get on with more important things – like his science homework.

Tony's father stood up and approached him, looking down on the boy as if he were vermin. Despite his newfound height, Tony's head still barely reached his father's shoulder.

The butt of his father's glass was backhanded across his mouth and split his lip. Tony's head snapped to the side and he fingered the lip before turning back to face his father, grinning as he did so. The taste of coppery blood and just a hint of whiskey filled his mouth as he sarcastically responded to the stinging cut.

"Better be careful, Sir, or she's going to figure out what you're doing. I'd hate to have to move again."

His father raised his hand again, but for the first time in his life, Tony ducked and the intended contact never happened. He was surprised to find himself clutching at the man's wrist and shoving it forcefully away before landing a fist to the chin above him. Apparently the fights with his temporary step-sister had left an impression after all.

It took Tony all of two more seconds to realize what he had done and another one to bolt for the door. Panic set in as the feel of skin on his knuckles sent him sprinting away from his father's ire. This was uncharted territory and he was out of the house before he could even recognize that he was not going to appreciate the panicked flight through the snow with wet hair and thin clothing. He could hear his father cursing behind him, yelling for the security to bring him back.

~*~

The chill in the air felt as if it were physically tugging at Tony's lungs as his path carried him further away from his warm bed. He wished for the millionth time that they still lived in his first home with that big, old pine tree to protect him. Here, he was in unfamiliar territory and wasn't entirely sure where he was headed.

Which is how he ended up flailing for solid ground as the earth beneath him dropped away and the chilly water underneath the soft ice covered his head. Sputtering as he broke the surface of the small pond, Tony grabbed at the ice around him to try and find purchase. Each time his arms landed on the ice another piece broke off around him. His feet barely touched the bottom and he found himself treading water to try and lever himself out.

Tony's strength was fading quickly as the cold made his muscles spasm and cramp. He could feel his teeth chattering against his split lip and wondered if he was doing more damage than the glass had originally. Spots of darkness crept into his vision and the boy fiercely battled them back, smart enough to know that passing out now would _not_ be the reprieve it was during his father's lessons. The boy didn't have a death wish.

"This is some fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Anthony." The boy grumbled to himself as much to keep himself conscious as to berate his smart idea. As he finally found a solid piece of ice to hold on to, he allowed himself a momentary reprieve to catch his breath. At the very least it allowed him to give his legs a rest while he worked out the next step.

When the ice below his arms gave way again and Tony sank like a stone to the bottom of the small pond, he began to wonder why he was even fighting. What was left for him to suffer that he needed to get back to the surface? The cold stopped biting so much and the five feet back to the surface seemed to be far too much effort.

But that would mean letting his father win, wouldn't it? Tony couldn't have that. He needed to get out of the pond and he needed to do it now.

He pushed off the mucky bottom of the pond and shot up to the surface. The blow to his head as he hit solid ice stunned him enough to force the remaining air from his lungs. He gulped in lungful after lungful of water and spots danced in his vision as he realized he'd drifted from the hole he'd made crashing through in the first place. He had no idea which way that hole was now. Defeated, he let his eyes drift closed and let his father win.

~*~

Tony wasn't sure how he ended up lying in the packed down snow. He was sure that he must have been in the water longer than he thought, however, since he was looking up into his father's face and could feel the man's arms supporting his back. _And was he being hugged?_ His lungs felt like they were on fire and try as he might, he couldn't control the gasping that was making the pain that much worse. Shivers wracked his whole body violently and he couldn't help crying out. Being this cold _really_ hurt.

"It's all right, Tony. Just hold on, Son. Stay with me, boy."

Now he knew he was hallucinating. He had never heard his father sound this frantic or out of control. He had never been called by his more informal name, and he couldn't remember when the man had last thought of him as his son. Maybe he was still stuck in the pond?

~~**~~


	13. Surviving the Run

******_*does an insane little happy dance* I was starting to think that this was never going to end. Every time I thought I was getting finished, another idea would pop into my head and after almost 3 full months of posting - never mind the amount of time it's taken to write - it's finally finished. This chapter was by far the closest I've come to not finishing on time, so I didn't get a chance to respond to all of the signed reviews individually, so I apologize for that. I do need to thank all of you for your continued support through the best and the worst of this story - especially given that it was based on such a sensitive subject._**

**_Also, that being said, you all need to thank Kylen for making me finish this once I decided with her help that no it wasn't done and yes it needed to have a lot of things added to it to make it better. There were at least several times when I wanted to figuratively throw this whole thing at a wall and give up on it, but she didn't let me. Even when I had at least six other plot bunnies begging for attention._**

**_Without further ado, here's the end of Running the Gauntlet._**

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******_WARNING: To reiterate, most of this story will center on the subject of child abuse and Tony's past. Anything in the chapter is by far less concerning than any of the other chapters except maybe the first one, but still contains the threat of abuse._**

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Chapter 13 – Surviving the Run

_TONY: My father left me in the Maui Hilton for two days once. He didn't even realize I was missing until he got the room service bill.  
_~ Honor Code 3x07

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The pins and needles that dug deeply into his frozen skin were excruciating and Tony wanted nothing more than to escape from this new form of punishment. He could hear his father's deep toned voice but couldn't make sense of the words. He didn't care about being strong and taking his punishment like a man, he didn't care that struggling would only make the abuse last that much longer and leave that much more of an impression. All he wanted was for the pain to go away. He'd suffer whatever consequences that brought later. As his teeth slowed their chattering and his eyes began to slip closed again, he began to realize that this time he might not escape by letting the darkness take him. All his father needed was an excuse to go too far – it wasn't like Tony was actually part of the family anymore. Determined to beat the older man, the boy fought to free himself from the grasp that held him close.

His father responded by tightening his grip. It didn't take a genius to see that the lanky boy in his arms was completely delirious and the waxy look to Tony's face reminded the older man far too vividly of the complexion that both his oldest son and his wife had shared in their coffins. He couldn't lose Anthony now, not when the boy was all he had left of them. He called out frantically for the drenched security guard that had pulled Tony from the water to get an ambulance, and could only hope that the last of his family wasn't being ripped away from him.

"DiNozzos do NOT pass out, Anthony. Do you hear me? Stay with me. Please, Son. Please stay with me." His voice cracked on the sheer amount of vehemence that even he could hear in his tone – the fear had quickly turned to anger and the man settled back into familiar patterns to try and make sense of the chaos of the night.

It was no use ordering Tony when he was this far gone. The petrified father could only watch as his son's eyes slipped shut and the boy lay still in his arms.

~*~

The steady beeping of the monitor was something that Tony would learn to dread hearing in his adult life. The smell of antiseptic and the bleach-white walls would be clues that he was in a hospital again. Hospitals meant horrible food, pain meds that left him fuzzy and the butt of far too many jokes as his body rebelled against the strong opioids, and nurses who flirted with him unabashedly even as they – in his mind anyway – took perverse pleasure in treating him like a pin cushion. For now they were comforting enough to let him know that he was no longer stuck in the freezing waters. The mound of blankets that cocooned him had long ago taken away the last of the chill and Tony could still feel the warmed saline that was coursing through him. It was an odd feeling and was what finally nagged at him enough to open his eyes.

A nurse was checking the machines to his right and he turned a lazy smile on her as she noticed him. Even at thirteen he wasn't above turning on the charm for the ladies.

"You gave us all quite a scare, Anthony. But you're getting better now. I'll get your doctor."

~*~

"Your father wasn't there when you woke up?" Gibbs seethed yet again as he thought about what he would give for one more moment with Kelly. To even think about not waiting with bated breath by her bedside if she had ever been that sick or injured was incomprehensible. He could remember with stark clarity just how little she had looked in the hospital bed after getting her tonsils out and how he and Shannon hadn't moved or breathed for fear that it would have changed something. When she had finally opened her eyes and whined about the sore throat – asking for promised ice cream even before she was fully awake – well, Gibbs would have given her the world if she'd wanted it.

"Nah. He was in the middle of buying out a company and had a 'make or break' conference call the morning after that he had to prepare for. He sent me in the ambulance with one of the staff so that he could go over his notes again."

Despite everything that had been revealed and worked through in the past two days, Tony's tone of voice was still far too accepting of his father's attitude and it churned at Gibbs' gut. He didn't know what else he could do or say to get through to the young man that wouldn't send him running back behind his array of masks. In the end, all Gibbs could do was hope that someday Tony would trust him enough to believe that his father had been so wrong in his treatment of his youngest son. Gibbs clung to that hope.

"Tony," Gibbs' voice was gentle, "your father was…"

Tony cut him off. He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to think about what could have been or what should have happened. "It doesn't matter now. He did what he did and whether or not he should have done something differently doesn't change anything."

Gibbs couldn't let it go. "But he was wrong."

DiNozzo shook his head in a quick dismissal before he dropped his eyes guiltily to his coffee mug. When he spoke again, the words were muffled and nearly silent as if he was physically fighting not to admit to them. "It's not like anyone else has shown me any differently. Family doesn't care."

Gibbs sharp hearing heard the admission clearly and shut his eyes. DiNozzo really didn't see it, did he? The younger man was helpless to see past his father's indifference to how a family should act. Tony couldn't see that his team cared for him far more than his father ever had. Did the countless hours they'd all spent at his bedside keeping him occupied as he recovered from that day in the factory when his heart had stopped and the vigils they'd all kept after he'd been stabbed chasing down a suspect mean _nothing_ to him?

~*~

The television above his bed had long ago been turned off. There was nothing to watch during the day anyway, and the boy never understood how people could actually watch soap operas. They were all just so unbelievable and overly dramatic. As if the eighth grader didn't have enough drama in his life. How many kids his age could say that they'd nearly drowned in a pond on their own property because they'd moved too many times to even know it was there? How many kids had to miss their basketball team's last regular season game because they were unconscious in a hospital bed?

Tony's team had lost the game and therefore ended the season and any playoff hopes the boys had held onto. The teenager knew that it was his fault, that if he'd only been able to keep his temper in check and submit to being his father's whipping boy, the team would have had their point guard for the game. As it was, no one from the team had even felt the need to send him a card, much less stop by. Tony had no doubts in how unimportant he was in the grand scheme of things. He had plenty of evidence of that from well hidden scars – both physical and mental. But to have it proven to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that his team didn't care that he'd almost died? That no one from school missed him?

The boy looked up eagerly as he heard footsteps at the door. Maybe he was wrong – maybe they just hadn't been allowed in to see him. He had been pretty sick after all, and hospitals were pretty strict on that kind of thing.

Tony's face fell when his nurse came in the room once more. He pasted a grin on his face and tried not to grimace when his lungs wanted to expel themselves from his chest again. He wanted to get out of here more than anything, and no one was going to let him go home if he sounded like a barking dog. When his nurse checked on his monitors and jotted down some notes, he wouldn't meet her eyes and studied his hands again.

"What's the matter, Anthony?" Her soft voice reminded him of Marie and the vague memories of her hugging him after his father's lessons and rubbing his back when he was sick almost brought him to tears. She was the last person that he could count on to never forget him. Tony would have given up anything and everything if she would just walk through the door.

But she wasn't ever going to walk through anywhere again. _And that's all your fault, so don't go feeling like you'd deserve to see her anyway, Anthony._ His self-recriminations echoed loudly in his ears and the teenager almost forgot that he'd been asked a question. His father would pound the tar out of him if he had ever dared try that at home.

"Nothing, ma'am. But I don't like being called Anthony." Tony's voice was quiet and couldn't quite hide the regret and pain choking him.

"Tony then. I'll bet you still don't feel well. I'm going to go and check with your doctor, okay, Hun?" She was out the door before he could stop her.

_Nothing he can do to make me less forgettable._ The boy started as he realized that _that_ was exactly what he was. For all of his recent athletic achievements and for all of his academic success, when it came down to it, he was just another face in the crowd – just another kid who could blend in with the background and move through his days unnoticed. While it had served him well in the past before his latest growth spurt, and while he knew that being invisible occasionally kept him out of his father's line of sight, Tony didn't want to be forgotten by anyone else. He just wanted to be remembered by someone.

~*~

In the three days he'd been awake, the only people who had crossed the threshold of his room were employed by the hospital. Tony had hoped that the memories of his father's words were more than just dreams, but it seemed that they were back to status quo. He could hear the pitying comments from the nurses as they walked by, knew he looked pathetic – "the pale little thing" clutching the teddy bear he'd woken up with. Every time someone walked by his door and pitied him, Tony felt even worse. No one cared that he was stuck in the hospital room, so why should he bother to fight to get out? Tears leaked down his cheeks and he buried his face in the bear's soft fur. He knew he was too old for stuffed animals – especially ones dressed in a sailor's uniform – but he didn't care. Someone would have had to have brought the bear for him and it was the only thing at the moment that reminded him that he wasn't completely alone. That someone somewhere remembered that he existed and that he was still alive. The boy would gladly endure the humiliation of being seen clutching the bear like a homesick six-year old if only someone would just walk through that door and visit him, if his father or even his step-mother would let him know that he was still welcome at home.

~*~

When one of the housekeepers came to pick him up after he was discharged, Tony had all but given up on ever seeing his bedroom again. As he walked in to find everything in boxes and ready for moving, the boy just shuddered and made sure his record player was safely stowed away as well.

Several other boxes were systematically checked and restacked near the door. He'd seen his belongings packed and repacked so many times in the past few years to avoid the close scrutiny of ex-wives that it all looked the same after awhile.

Except this time there was an extra box. This wouldn't have sparked his curiosity under normal circumstances, but it was labeled "PICU427" in big flowing letters. That had been _his_ hospital room. Tony stared at the cardboard for a few minutes as if it was going to reach out and bite him before he extended his hand slowly. If anyone had seen him, they would have thought the box was a frightened dog that Tony was trying to placate as opposed to an inanimate object.

Once he'd gotten the box down from the stack, Tony took no time in pulling off the packing tape. If there was one thing he'd learned in the past few years that was relevant here, it was that waiting didn't make anything change. Whatever was still in the box was going to be there whether or not he was hesitant about opening it.

The haphazard pile of cards that filled the bottom of the shoebox was the last thing the teenager expected to see. He hadn't seen a single one of them when he'd been trapped in that room and hadn't even known there were any waiting for him. The boy tore into the envelopes like it was Christmas morning, but each card dampened his enthusiasm more and more. Each card was more generic than the last, signed by members of his team with no personal note inside and nothing to suggest that they even cared. What he'd thought in the hospital had been right. He was simply forgettable.

Tony shoved the cards back into the box and jumped to his feet as he heard his father's heavy steps come into the room.

"You weren't supposed to find those."

Tony met his father's glare and returned it. "They were in here when I got here. They should have been in my room at the hospital."

"I didn't think they'd do you any good. Thought that you'd feel worse knowing that your team lost because you weren't there." The man's voice was oddly soft and it grated on Tony's ears.

"That's a lie and you know it. You weren't thinking about me getting better, were you?" Tony tensed as if he expected to get hit.

"Of course I was. I'm your…" The older man was cut off by Tony's reaction.

"Don't say it. You didn't care enough to visit me once, so don't go playing that you're my father and we're family. We're not." Reckless abandon filled him once more and Tony was prepared for a fight either way.

"I had an important business…" Tony cut him off again.

"Most people think that their sons are more important than their business deals. But I guess I know where I stand with that anyway, so you don't need to make excuses." Tony's hands were fisted at his side as he waited for his father's response.

The air of defeat in his father's voice stunned him and cooled down the anger burning in his stomach.

"Think what you want, Anthony. I've tried to do my best by you. You're going to move up to Middletown to live with a cousin of mine for the rest of the school year and next year you will attend St. George's School in Rhode Island. You will stay there until you are accepted into the military academy out there and from there where you go is on your head. It's the best I can do for you now."

Tony wasn't sure what he was expecting from his father after his outburst, but the impersonal cards, the thought of being out from under his father's abusive rule, and finally the gentle hand on his shoulder that wasn't meant to hurt or demean was so foreign that it brought tears that he couldn't stop.

~*~

The bright red and white banners that heralded the start of his freshman year welcomed the lost little boy like nothing had in a long time. St. George's School represented the chance for Tony to make the most out of what he could and not have to worry about his father's reactions. He knew that actually living in the boarding school would be a change for the better, and the fourteen-year old knew he wouldn't be going back to his father's house again. His home had been long forgotten in the turmoil of death and pain, and the old house in Long Island was as much a distant memory now as was the concept of family.

Tony let out a breath as the muscles in his shoulders relaxed and he took the first few steps into his dorm room. His roommate hadn't moved in yet, and the sheer amount of privacy and sanctity of the small room settled him and made the boy feel far safer than any of the spacious rooms in his father's houses. For the first time since before his brother died, Tony was free.

~*~

"The last time we spoke, I was on my way to Ohio on scholarships and he told me that if I wanted to spend the rest of my life as a dumb jock, then he never wanted to hear from me again." Tony smiled as he continued. "Guess he thought that would really hurt me or something. Like pretending that he didn't exist would be such a stretch of my imagination."

The young man paused again. This time when he spoke, it was much quieter and far more reflective. "I've always been good at pretending."

"Not as good as you might think, Tony." Gibbs forced DiNozzo's eyes to meet his. "The people who you let in can always tell."

The snort was coupled with an almost frantic attempt to look away. "Just because you've got this superhero ability to figure me out doesn't mean that everyone else can too."

Gibbs just shook his head and sighed. "You think Abby can't tell? Or Ducky?"

Tony didn't have a response, and just shrugged.

"You play the part well, and you use it to your advantage, Tony. But it's just a mask. It doesn't…"

Tony cut in quickly. "And you honestly think Kate sees more than what I spent my time doing at Ohio? That my degree was all playing sports and no real classes? That despite the fact that I was a two-sport athlete at a highly competitive Division I school – which not very many people can pull off by the way, what with the season overlap and all – clearly all I did was act out some bad college movie about frats? Come on, Gibbs."

"If she were as smart as she'd like us to believe, she'd have figured out that in another life you could put that degree to work and be a teacher or a coach real easy, DiNozzo. But you won't let her see that, will you?"

"Yeah, well I guess I really am a du…"

The smack to the back of the head was not unexpected, nor was it unwarranted. But the look that crossed Gibbs' features as he stared almost uncomprehendingly at his hand unsettled DiNozzo more than he'd like to admit.

"Tony, why do you let me do that?" The voice was quiet, and the gaze still locked on the palm of his hand – almost as if the appendage was going to jump out on its own and bite him.

"Do what?" The responding tone was quiet; guarded.

"Smack you upside the head like that."

"Oh. That." He paused, almost sounding relieved that it wasn't something more difficult. "I don't know. Never really thought of it before."

The pause was long enough, however, for Gibbs to know that Tony had thought of it, and probably more than once.

"Really?" The word was drawn out and painfully sarcastic.

"Well why shouldn't I let you?"

"Because it's what your father did. You shouldn't just let…" Gibbs knew the simple idea of Tony being a pushover would light the fire, so to speak.

"Let's get one thing straight. I don't _let_ people get away with anything I'm not okay with. I…" he trailed off and glared as he realized he had been roped into answering. Gibbs' smug smile didn't make it any better.

"Well, what do you mean when you do it?" Two could play at this game.

"What?"

"What are you thinking, feeling, portraying, or whatever when you smack me?"

"That you're better than whatever you're doing. That you don't need to act a certain way to be important." Gibbs' frankness was only present because of the amount of alcohol consumed between the two of them.

"You never do it so that you can feel better about yourself? Or to belittle me? Or to prove that I'm just another possession? To show me that I'm worthless? You never do it for you?"

Gibbs looked down into his own coffee cup. That wasn't meant to be responded to.

"It's not the same, Gibbs. It's not even remotely the same and after the first few times you did it back in Baltimore, I got that. I let you do it because I can. Because it's my choice and I know for a fact that if I ever asked you seriously not to do it that you wouldn't. I have never seen what my father did and what you do in the same light. Not once."

"Still, DiNozzo."

"It's who you are, Boss. It's how you show…it's not a problem."

"But you deserve better than that."

Tony snorted. _That's up for debate._

"Boss, if you start hugging me in the office, I'm gonna be really weirded out and people are going to talk." The attempt at humor was sketchy at best, and didn't fool Gibbs for a second.

"He tell you that you don't deserve anything like that?"

The nod was minute; most people would have missed it. Gibbs had never been most people.

"Who do you believe? Deep down - where no one sees - who do you believe?" The feeling of voyeurism was creeping in again as he thought about just how much alcohol had been consumed by his Agent. It wasn't a question he had meant to ask aloud, and he was already cursing himself for putting the lost look onto Tony's face. Gibbs could tell that the young man was too far gone to censor his answer.

Tony looked directly into Gibbs' eyes for only a moment before sighing and dropping his gaze back to the floor. It was all it took to show the elder Agent that for all the progress they had made, Tony's formative memories were still holding strong and doing damage.

"I try, I really do. But then something happens and all I can hear are his words. 'You're going to end up in the gutter.' 'I didn't even know you were gone.' 'You're no son of mine.' It's hard when you're battling all of those memories with what I've got now."

Tony looked down and away from his boss, realizing somewhere in the dark recesses of conscious thought that he was being more honest than he had ever intended with anyone. "Most of the time I get it. People show that they care in different ways, ya know? You smack my head; Abby hugs me even though she knows it makes me feel awkward. My father…he didn't get that. He saw dollar signs and made himself feel better with success that other people praised him for. He needed that – especially when he had nothing else. He couldn't see that maybe other people…me…I…needed something different. Twelve years of seeing that the only thing I was good for was disappointment was too much for him. Twelve years of me trying to figure out if being a son meant more than failing to live up to expectations and suffering his lessons for that. Then two years of him completely ignoring my existence when he didn't want to take his day out on me. And finally four years of being shipped off out of his sight so that he wouldn't continue and eventually kill me. Doesn't do much for your outlook on life, ya know?"

Gibbs was silent with his eyes closed, trying to keep the hot fury at a dull roar.

"I've only been here a little while. Peoria, Pittsburgh, Baltimore. It's not like I've had a lot of experience with anything different."

"You've been here a little over two years now, DiNozzo. You got any plans?"

Tony's head jolted up at the question. He smiled and tried to deflect. "It is a record. Extenuating circumstances or not."

Gibbs shook his head.

"I keep…I – I kept…kept losing people. It was easier to push them away before they left. It was easier to…if I don't let myself…if…"

"You don't get to choose stuff like that, DiNozzo. It's one lesson your father never could have taught you because I don't think he knows it himself. You honestly think that if you took off for somewhere else, Abby wouldn't hunt you down and pester you for the rest of your days? That Ducky wouldn't keep in touch to make sure you were living on more than pizza and take out? That…" he paused; making sure that Tony was paying rapt attention. "That I would wash my hands of you and be done with it? It doesn't work that way. At least, it's not supposed to. You don't get to push us away, Anthony."

"I'm yours and you're keeping me?" Tony borrowed the line from Abby, but the tone was hesitant and questioning.

"Damned straight."

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**Look for Expectations, a one-shot tag to Hiatus Part I to be up sometime before I leave for camp on Friday afternoon!**


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